Deserving a Dog

I am not a dog person.  My father, when I was about sixteen, was given a German shepherd pup.  He named her Ginger(probably my baby sister's doing), tied her up in the basement until she grew large, then tied her up to a tree across our wooded dead end road.

These were my teenage years, wherein teenagers don't tend to heartily roll out of bed in the morning.  And I was depressed.  And beginning around five a.m., when the few neighbors we had began to pass to go to work, and then walk past to get to the bus stop for school, Ginger barked.  And barked.  And barked.

My father, obviously also not a dog person (not much of a human person either) had taken to knocking on the window when he was around and poor Ginger started to bark.  She would stop, for a couple of seconds, and then begin again.  With those two seconds of silence, she trained my father to bang on the window when she began to bark.

And in my morose, sleep-filled rage, I too took to banging on the window.

And then I left home, and it wasn't until years later when I had a home of my own, that another idiot, who lived across a small field from me, got herself a dog, which she stuck in a pen, which drove the poor dog wild, and whose high-pitched bark drove me wild all day, every day.

When I moved to South Carolina, as I was house hunting, I was looking in rural areas, where neighbors (I thought) would be spaced a civil distance.  And if there was a dog barking when I went through a house, I discarded it.

But after I moved, as these things go, dogs moved in or were acquired.  I have neighbors whose dogs are adorable and really well-behaved.  And I have neighbors who have dogs that when they get going sound like they are ripping babies to shreds.  And I have a neighbor who, gods know why, got a dog a year or more ago, and stuck it outside, and has left it yowling pathetically ever since.

Dogs are work.  I tried owning a dog once; she was a dear.  But I was unable to commit to taking care of her the way she needed -- and deserved -- to be cared for, so (and I am not proud of this) when she was picked up and taken to the pound, I left her there in the hope that a family that loved her would adopt her.

People abuse and neglect dogs just by treating them as though they don't need constant care and affection, much like a small child.  And like a small child, a dog gives back, and too many times, gives when it is receiving little in return.

I think I was so furious at barking Ginger because she broke my heart.  And so it is with the neglected neighborhood dogs.

If you leave your dog outside all day every day, if you leave your dogs for weeks while you are on vacation and it's only human contact is the guy who comes to feed  them, you don't deserve those dogs.  And they truly deserve better than you.

Retired Librarian: Crime Stopper

It is hard to believe that people steal from their library.  But it is true.  We who have worked at a library, like you, ask ourselves, But why?

I have been reading the New York Times Book Review compulsively since around 1980, when I first moved to Long Island and, like real New Yorkers, took up reading the Sunday Times as though it were a religious rite.

When the shoestring on which I had been living got stretched further a few years ago, I agonized about ending my mail subscription to the Book Review.  I mean, I agonized for a year or more.  Then, since I actually worked at a library that received the Sunday Times, I took the leap.  Then, a year or more later, I quit the library.

So, in an amazing feat of flexibility,  I began to visit my local branch and read the Book Review on Monday, and learned not to freak out if a copy was missing.

And then, a few months ago, I realized that more and more frequently, the recent copies were missing.  And then I realized that they had gone mostly missing since last November.  If I didn't read the current issue when it was current, it was gone.

So I reported it to someone at my branch.  But apart from keeping the issue at the desk and forcing the culprit to ask for it, which the branch manager was unlikely to do due to his dislike of "clutter" at the desk, there was no way to resolve this problem.

Except on Tuesday, I headed a little late to the library.  As I walked into the periodical area, I quickly noted a guy snatch (honestly) the current book review, walk over to the shelf and grab the latest back issue, then walk around the room and pretend to browse the periodicals, take one, and proceed to sit and "browse."

First of all, I'm the only person I know who grabs the current and last week's issue of the New York Times Book Review.  And I'm the only person there who has been right on top of the thefts.  Also, this guy was sitting there flipping pages of this magazine as though he were at a doctor's office afraid to get his test results.

After a minute went by, I took a book out and also pretended to read.  I'm retired, I've got nowhere to go, and I'm going to outwait this dude.  Sure enough, after only a few minutes, he stood up and carefully replaced the magazine, and then proceeded to walk out the door.

Before I could think what to do, I was running after him.

"Sir, excuse me...Sir?"  Unable to ignore me, he stopped and turned.  "I believe you have the Book Review.... You know, that doesn't circulate."

Which was hysterical, because he was obviously walking out the door without checking it out.  But in such instances, making sense seemed to be a secondary concern.

And this rather large, six-foot-something middle-aged man, accosted by a rotund five foot "tall" white haired older woman, really had no other alternative but to go along.  So while denying that he had any such Book Review, he walked back into the reading area.  He fumbled with some clutter that was sitting at the table he'd been at while I watched, adding helpfully, "I'm looking for the current issue.  Maybe you didn't realize you took it."   And that big lug must have truly been feeling cornered, because he reluctantly set down his two books, and then moved them aside to show the two Book Reviews which he had been attempting to hide under them.

And then, totally flummoxed, he sat down to collect his thoughts.  Which gave me time to go alert the branch manager, who followed me back to have a look.  Then we stood there like idiots for a few seconds, until I motioned to him to follow me out of the reading area, so that I could explain how I nabbed the guy.

At which time the poor fool attempted his escape.  Of course he had ditched the rest of the goods, which we found at the table where he'd been sitting.  Along with the Travel Section of the Sunday Times, which perhaps he had been taking in order to plan his escape.

My final words to the branch manager:

"Try to take my Book Review???"