Log #47, Around and About the 'Hood

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Updated January 1st, 2007

Neighbors and Friends, Not Necessarily One and the Same

Just before the holidays, the city changed garbage haulers. The new contractors proudly boasted about their eight new trucks, two of which promptly went down for maintenance. Rumors have been flying: the workers were so overloaded they walked off the job....only well-to-do neighborhoods had service....only the business district had service. Whatever was true, a shiny new truck stopped at #122 Bahía and picked up more than a week's worth of used kitty litter on New Year's Eve.

New men about town.

Today I dragged Stan off to take some dog pictures and to explore a weird cave at the end of our road. We noticed (phew!) that just a block down from us, the garbage was still stacked up in the street.

Garbage of a different sort was stacked up and strewn around the cave we climbed up to explore. Clamshells were piled all around, inside and out, as if someone had been feasting there for years.

Modern midden?

The reason Stan was snapping dog pictures was because of a walk I took, last week. I was out cruising the neighborhood, just a couple of blocks down from our place, next to CyberCo, the security company, when two big ole dogs rushed me. My normal modus operendi for charging dogs, which had always worked, was to walk away from them without making eye contact.

Two dogs hang out at this house, with access through the
carport to a backstreet, as well - terrorizing anything that moves.

My just-walk-away-Renee tactic didn't work this time. One of the tough guys, a mixed-breed-looking thing with a square head and an attitude, lunged behind me and grabbed my leg. He got a little taste of meat and ripped a hole in my sweats.

The culprit, a few days later.

A nice couple in a pick-up stopped and helped me, even gave me a towlette to wash off the blood... not that there was much blood to wash off. Then they drove up to the dog's house and helped me interrogate the owners.

"Of course," the owner said, "The dog's had all his shots. Oh no," she said, "He's never done anything aggressive before." Yeh, right; Stan can disprove that statement. He's ridden his bike past the dogs' house when the goon squad was out, and they chased him for more than a block. Thankfully, Stan peddled too fast for them to get a taste of his thigh.