What Would You Do?

Let me get the worst part about this story over with right now. The dog is dead. It was picked up by animal control and put to death almost immediately because of it's age and the fact that her owners were homeless, drunken, assholes.

Three families on our block were made homeless Monday because of a fire in their building. That wasn't their fault, and I feel badly for them. Three days earlier two other families were made homeless because they didn't pay their rent and were evicted from the building directly across the street from me. The first family evicted was a gay guy and his boyfriend, along with his dog. This guy at least took his dog with him to where ever it was he went off to. What he didn't do, was take his cats with him. This has happened before in that building. That's how I inherited the late Fat Kitty. This time I've inherited a beautiful orange and white cat that I've been feeding out on the porch for the last week. I don't know what happened to his other cats, but I suspect animal control grabbed them when they grabbed the other tenant's dog.

Ah, the other tenants. I've written about them before. Once when she, standing out on the street in her night gown, warned me of alien ships landing down the street. I've been told that they blew through a fifty thousand dollar windfall in only a few months, and ended up getting evicted for not paying rent. What they blew the money on is anybody's guess. My guess is alcohol, drugs, and more alcohol. In the days before the looming eviction I kept asking them if they had plans, and what about Lady Bird, their dog.
    "Oh she's coming with us. We'll be okay." I was told.
Well they were evicted last week and I assumed that the dog was "okay". It was not.

Chandler likes to poop along the fence next to the church parking lot. Last Thursday night when he stopped to drop his load, I noticed the drunks from across the street had parked their old car in the church lot. It was very uncomfortable and awkward. Me with Chandler pooping and them a couple of feet away, drunk out of their minds, arguing about something. Do I say hello, or should I just pretend I don't see my former neighbors homeless and drunk at ten in the evening?
    "Hi there Chandler. Look Alan brought Chandler to visit." Mrs. Drunk Lady slurred.
    "Uh, hi guys. How's it going?" I asked, ignoring the obvious.
    "Shut the fuck up..  you... you, I told you..." Her husband sputtered at her.
It was one of those nights where Chandler did his extra long, dance around in a circle poops.
    "You got Lady Bird with you?" I asked.
    "Oh yeah, don't worry about her.. she's fine...." her voice trailing off.
The next morning I walked Chandler and they were still there with beer cans scattered about next to the old station wagon. This time I ignored them. He was asleep in the front seat, and she was stumbling around outside the car. By Chandler's afternoon walk all four doors of the car were open, the woman seemed to have a scrape on her face, and the husband was the one stumbling around outside the car. Again, very awkward for me.
    "C'mon Chandler, hurry up and poop." I hissed.
On the third day they moved the car to a different spot but still in the church parking lot. I was glad to see that. I figured Chandler could poop and maybe we could get out of there before they saw us. As Chandler squatted the husband wandered over our way.
    "I don't know what happened to the dog." he mumbled, and then turned to walk back to the car. I could see shit stains running down his pant leg as he walked away.
    "She's gone, that's all." Mrs. Drunk called out in a raspy voice, not even looking my way.
I felt bad, I felt bad about their dog, and I felt bad that they were homeless. Like I said, it made me very uncomfortable, they had been my neighbors. So this time I decided to do something about this situation. When I got home with Chandler and Bette, I picked up the phone and I called the police. They were not in the church parking lot the next time I walked by with my dogs. Finally I was comfortable again walking past the church. Was I wrong?