The Boss

Dexter was the boss. Not because of business acumen, or people skills; certainly not because he ever wanted to be.

He became boss, because handlers and staff, convinced him that was the way things should be.  If things went wrong, there was no one else to blame.

“Wolf fangs” bared when things didn’t go right. The offenders backed down. If they didn’t, staff intervened.

“Dexter, what a good manager you are,” They chorused. Everyone believed it–especially Dexter.

With a sigh, Dexter loosened his collar.  Ego massages were so refreshing.

All the news that wasn’t news.  Wasn’t that pitiful?  Alone again on Saturday night.

Dexter, cared little what others thought of him.  There was nothing left to prove.

He lay on his back, fancied himself running carefree through an open meadow.

Rushes To Judgement

Can’t run away from troubles

But, you’d like to try

My train of thought derailed

Maybe it was on the wrong track?

Extremists took advantage

Of bad situations

Somebody’s bound to do it

They always did

No concept of time

They’ve no place to go

Don’t depend on anybody else

Do what you know is right

Don’t let the bad guys win!

How long will this go on?

Nobody knew for sure

The Neighborhood

Thankful it’s not colder than it is this morning.  Houses in the Deep South don’t take kindly to temperatures below the twenties.  There are no basements.  Water pipes run through attics and crawl spaces.

The Retired Old Farts Neighborhood Dog Walker’s Club, of which I am a member, is normally a peaceful group.  Trouble, when it happens, is usually caused by non-dog owners.

There weren’t any other dog walkers out this morning.  Of course, my spouse chimed in with, “There wasn’t anybody else crazy enough to walk in this cold weather.”  Before I retired, I worked outside in weather much colder than this.

Jack, real name not used, is a notorious, mercurial, neighborhood non-dog owner.  Rocky, however, is a real cocker spaniel.  It was a pleasant January day, when Jack, accompanied by his son, rolled up on his golf cart.

Without so much as a friendly hello–Jack went straight for the jugular.  “Why don’t you people walk your dogs through your own neighborhood?” Jack shouted.  “We’re tired of all the dog crap.”

Sam, blindsided–looked up from bagging Rocky’s droppings.  Rocky, his black cocker spaniel, was gentle, wouldn’t hurt a fly.  “This is a public street,” Sam answered–waited to see where the conversation led.

It was an unfair attack, from the same man that previously attempted to run down an unleashed nuisance dog, from a nearby trailer park, with his car.

Gizmo, the dog in question, was no longer around.  Problems arose when “free-range” owners let their dogs run loose.  Presently, there is a white pit bull, that roams freely after numerous complaints to the sheriff’s office.

Jack attempted to goad Sam into an argument.  Sam, wisely didn’t fall for it.  Jack’s flare-up blew away, just like the previous ones.

 

Goldenrod, Lies, and Alibis

Among tombstones

Butterflies flew

Tall goldenrod grew

They went and they came

From evening to dawn

Lies became alibis

When the money was gone

Buzzards watched

From rooftops nearby

Expenses paid in full

One way or another

Too big to cry

Those that were there

Knew the reasons why

Among tombstones

Butterflies flew

Tall goldenrod grew

Right or wrong

They went and they came

From evening to dawn

 

 

 

Indiana Snake Charmers…

Lived in felony colonies

Played in shadows

Hid from the light

Pulled overcoat collars

Up around their scrawny necks

Died slow deaths

Told lies, that never lasted

Made judgement calls

That only made it worse

While crawfish bubbled

Crawfish boiled

This or that wasn’t cool

You were doing it wrong

Nowhere near done

What took you so long?

Try this on for size

If that didn’t beat all?