There's an elderly man who lives across from where I live and the retirement bungalows -one which
he lives in, backs out to a dog-walking grassy area and a river.
The countryside awaits on the other side of the river and ergo, there's no street lighting or illumination
whatsoever.
I've known this chap for most of my life because he also lived in another area I grew up in and one thing
I and my friends learned early on was that you don't climb over his fence to steal from his apple tree because
he owned two dogs.
Two big, nasty German shepherds, one jet black and one white as snow.
You never saw him walk them in the fields like others and they were never seen at the windows. They didn't
bark when somebody passed the house and in fact, all we knew of them was that they growled before they
tore the back of your pants off during an escape.
They became mysterious beasts that licked their lips at night and dreamed about trespassing children.
Time moves on.
The man is old now and before the death of his wife, he and she enjoyed their new home and occasionally
went old-time ballroom dancing.
I had lived in my current house for about ten years and in all that time, the memories of his pair of midnight
canine assassins had only been called upon once when I glimpsed a large dark shape slip from the man's
back-door and into his car.
It was either another black German shepherd or... one of those old bastards was still alive.
One late-summer's evening, the man and his wife left to take up their waltzing, the estate was quiet and
the shadows lengthened. The man's back garden was surrounded by a seven-foot hedge except for a wall
that connected to his bungalow.
That's where the would-be thief climbed over.
The old man told me later that when he'd first discovered that there may have been an attempt to break
into his house, the marks on his patio door he initially believed were from birds.
Back then, plate-glass was held in place with a few small nails and putty, a pliable compound with linseed
oil that small birds sometimes like to peck at.
But the marks were too big and he realised someone had tried to chisel away the putty and remove the pane.
He phoned the Police.
After a search of his garden, the two police officers tapped on his door and assured the man that they would
arrest the culprit as soon as they perused their files back at the station.
The man asked how they could be so confident that they knew who it was that tried to break in through his
patio door and stifling their laughter, they explained.
The thief had been busy in the darkness quietly scraping at the putty when, for some reason he must have
looked up from his work and seen something watching him. Whatever that 'something was, caused the
would-be burglar to vacate his bowels... to eject waste material into his underwear.
Being soiled and possibly in fear of the unknown witness, he had retreated to the rear of the garden to
gather himself and to clean away the fouling. Using a wad of paper he must've discovered in his pocket,
he wiped his backside as best he could and left the scene.
One would suggest that in the circles that this repeat-offender existed, commitment would be low.
The old man joined in with the officers' mirth as they went on to explain the piece of paper was actually
a copy of the thief's charge-sheet from another crime he'd been accused of and his particulars -such as
name and address were visible through the smears of faecal matter.
They even showed the man the evidence in a little bag one of the officers held up.
Maybe -and I'm only guessing here, that as the two policemen explained the events of that dark night
to the old man, a large aphotic shape watched from the shadows of the house and licked it's lips in
knowing.
he lives in, backs out to a dog-walking grassy area and a river.
The countryside awaits on the other side of the river and ergo, there's no street lighting or illumination
whatsoever.
I've known this chap for most of my life because he also lived in another area I grew up in and one thing
I and my friends learned early on was that you don't climb over his fence to steal from his apple tree because
he owned two dogs.
Two big, nasty German shepherds, one jet black and one white as snow.
You never saw him walk them in the fields like others and they were never seen at the windows. They didn't
bark when somebody passed the house and in fact, all we knew of them was that they growled before they
tore the back of your pants off during an escape.
They became mysterious beasts that licked their lips at night and dreamed about trespassing children.
Time moves on.
The man is old now and before the death of his wife, he and she enjoyed their new home and occasionally
went old-time ballroom dancing.
I had lived in my current house for about ten years and in all that time, the memories of his pair of midnight
canine assassins had only been called upon once when I glimpsed a large dark shape slip from the man's
back-door and into his car.
It was either another black German shepherd or... one of those old bastards was still alive.
One late-summer's evening, the man and his wife left to take up their waltzing, the estate was quiet and
the shadows lengthened. The man's back garden was surrounded by a seven-foot hedge except for a wall
that connected to his bungalow.
That's where the would-be thief climbed over.
The old man told me later that when he'd first discovered that there may have been an attempt to break
into his house, the marks on his patio door he initially believed were from birds.
Back then, plate-glass was held in place with a few small nails and putty, a pliable compound with linseed
oil that small birds sometimes like to peck at.
But the marks were too big and he realised someone had tried to chisel away the putty and remove the pane.
He phoned the Police.
After a search of his garden, the two police officers tapped on his door and assured the man that they would
arrest the culprit as soon as they perused their files back at the station.
The man asked how they could be so confident that they knew who it was that tried to break in through his
patio door and stifling their laughter, they explained.
The thief had been busy in the darkness quietly scraping at the putty when, for some reason he must have
looked up from his work and seen something watching him. Whatever that 'something was, caused the
would-be burglar to vacate his bowels... to eject waste material into his underwear.
Being soiled and possibly in fear of the unknown witness, he had retreated to the rear of the garden to
gather himself and to clean away the fouling. Using a wad of paper he must've discovered in his pocket,
he wiped his backside as best he could and left the scene.
One would suggest that in the circles that this repeat-offender existed, commitment would be low.
The old man joined in with the officers' mirth as they went on to explain the piece of paper was actually
a copy of the thief's charge-sheet from another crime he'd been accused of and his particulars -such as
name and address were visible through the smears of faecal matter.
They even showed the man the evidence in a little bag one of the officers held up.
Maybe -and I'm only guessing here, that as the two policemen explained the events of that dark night
to the old man, a large aphotic shape watched from the shadows of the house and licked it's lips in
knowing.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.