Dog at Large

 January 23, 2003

The Little One’s friend brought over his drum set to Rack’s garage. The rule for the fourteen year old rock boys was no amps or drums after 8pm on weekdays and 10pm on weekends. As the core of the band lived a dozen mile away, practicing was rare, delegated to a few hours after school and intermittent sleep over weekends.

It was Saturday evening when Rack saw the two officers walking up the driveway.

“Mr. Jite? We are answering a call on a noise complaint.”

“At 6:45PM on a Saturday night? Gosh.”

“That be as it may, there is a substantial amount of noise pollution we can hear from the street.”

“Well besides you guys, who is out in the street whom it is bothering? For being in the house here, the building the garage is closest to, I can barely hear it over the hum of the air conditioner.”

“That be as it may, we received a complaint, so shut it down.”

 Rack opened the garage door for the police to look in and the boys to look back. The music stopped and there was a sense of disappointment all around.

January 26, 2003

"Where are the eggs, I put a dozen eggs in here yesterday.” Rack shouted into the den looking into the refrigerator.

Silence reigned until the Little One told Rack the police came again the night before at 9pm with another noise complaint.

“Did you put a blanket in the drum and tape that pad to where the hammer thing hits it?” Rack asked.

“Yes sir.” His sleepover drummer friend replied.

“Well you know guys, I went down to City Hall and got the printout of the noise laws. They have us over a barrel. Unlike other communities, there are no specific decibel levels or times listed, so they can do pretty much whatever they want.”

“Well that sucks!” Said the Big One adding, “The guy calling runs two Mexican grass cutting crews who are constantly running and testing loud lawn mowers and blowers. Why don’t we call the police on them?”

“Because I don’t want to play revenge and start neighbor wars, it will only makes things worse. Besides, I like the guy. And he has little kids going to bed early, so he has a point.” Rack replied in Melville mode.

January 30, 2003

About 10am Rack sat at his computer in front of the picture windows of his home office overlooking the front patio, the driveway and the forward situated detached garage. He noticed Mike the Mailman going his way across the street. Knowing he would be at the door in five minutes, Rack called Buddy, opened the door, and told him to lay down under the mailbox. Rack would do this a few times a month when it came to mind. The two had a special relationship; lots of tail wagging, squeaking, licking, petting and a treat for the dog. The eleven year old Golden Retriever, as always, did exactly as he was told and leaned his fat butt up against the front door jam and laid down. 

Before the mailman arrived a big white car pulled in the driveway and two big men got out. Buddy slowly rose from his spot, and with tail wagging gave a couple low barks to meet them with friendly delight halfway down the driveway. By the time Rack put on his pants and opened the door, Buddy had picked up a flip-flop and was circling the men underfoot wanting to give them his present with high pitched doggy squeals.

“This is in violation of the law Mr. Jite.” Police Chief Jarvet stated while the angry neighbor said nothing, petting the dog.

“Oh gee, not this again.” Rack sighed asking them to come in and sit down.

“The law is the law and your dog is at large.” The Chief went on.

“My dog leaning up against my front door is at large? Who wrote that law, George Orwell?”

“No, I did.” Replied the Chief.

Rack knew his lose mouth had now got him in trouble once again. He offered coffee which was declined. The men sat and alternately rubbed Buddy’s ears who wouldn’t leave them alone. Buddy loved guests.

“Mr. Sert’s house was egged Saturday night, shortly after a noise complaint we responded to at this address.” The Chief stated as Rack was reminded of the missing eggs.

“I had no idea, I am really sorry Jim.” Rack stammered.

“I was so mad I was going to come over here and kick their ass.” The angry neighbor replied.

“I can imagine, you probably should have, I would have helped you.” Rack added which seemed to calm the situation.

As the conversation proceeded regards to when the boys could play, which was pretty much decided as never, the Chief once again interrupted with the dog at large business.

“I have no problem with your dog.” The once angry neighbor stated bluntly looking Rack in the eye. He too was sensing something amiss in the Chief’s singular direction. Jim’s statement seemed clear, he was here to complain about an act of vandalism and noise which was keeping his small children awake. He was not the kind of person who wanted to cause strife over things as shallow as a dog laying down in its own yard.

“I don’t know Chief, taking such trivial matters so seriously seems to point to what has become our unique American problem. While most of the rest of the world is trying to keep their children alive until tomorrow, we seem to be consumed with a possible, potential dog poop on our lawns. Perhaps we all need to toughen up a bit.”

“That be is it may, and your nutty speech aside, it is the law, which will be enforced.” Police Chief Jarvet closed. Still petting the dog who loved him.

January 31, 2003

After getting the rest of the family out the door by 7am, Rack stood in the kitchen making coffee when he realized the dog was missing. Damn he thought, must of snuck out with one of the exiting Jites’. He walked out the front door to be met with quite a commotion. In the middle of the driveway were two men, one with a long blue pole with a noose on the end dragging Buddy down the driveway on his back to the waiting truck with the cage. The other he recognized as the part time animal control officer, Paulo, who was writing a ticket.

“What are you doing to my dog guys?!”

“Your dog was at large and as you are here now we will write you a ticket rather than impound him.” Paulo said.

“Stop that!” Rack said to the other man who was still dragging the dog in the noose. The man stopped and Rack went up to Buddy and pulled the hoop from around his neck. Noticing blood streaks down his neck and a bit smeared on the driveway. Rack did a quick check and found nothing too serious.

“We replied to a complaint concerning your dog.” Paulo said handing Rack the ticket.

“Well you didn’t have to do this to him. Damn, this is the friendliest dog who ever lived and on his last legs to boot. Come on.”

“He charged us!”

“I know better Paulo and so do you.” Rack said as the men got into their truck and backed down the driveway. He wondered how far down the street Buddy had been when they nabbed him. For he seldom went past either fire hydrant 200 feet in either direction. He also speculated at the coincidence of it all. He had not seen or dealt with any dog at large issue in six years, then suddenly, less than a day after calling the Police Chief’s Jarvet silly law silly, the city came by and beat up his old dog.

Late that afternoon the various Jites began returning home.

“Dad! What happened to Buddy!” The Big One said sitting on the floor in the hall petting him.

“He got beat up by the city today, not so bad though.”

“Dad! It’s pretty bad look at this mess!” She replied.

Rack moved over to the dog and noticed a large puddle of blood and slime on the tile floor. He then noticed the whole left side of the animal’s head was swollen to twice the size. He stooped down, and moving a bloody clump of hair aside, found a two inch diameter hole in his cheek, puncturing through to the inside. Indeed it was far more serious than he had thought.

“Ohhhh…..” The Big One cried when Rack exposed the gaping hole under the matted hair, setting her off to tears.

Rack called his vet to find the doctor had left for the day, and as it was Friday, nothing could be done until Monday. With the family all home, Rack helped the old beast into the light of the kitchen to see what he could do for him. The Little one held him while Rack poured a few ounces of rubbing alcohol into the wound. The dog didn’t flinch. He then waited a few minutes and washed it out with hydrogen peroxide. He found the bottle of penicillin and tried hiding it in various food bits but the dog was not eating.

Buddy could not eat or drink for two days. Late Sunday Rack was able to feed him small pieces of hot dog with the hidden penicillin and got him to lay down over his water bowl and slowly drink. By Monday the hole protruding to the inside of his mouth had almost closed. Rack tired to get Buddy out to the car, but he wouldn’t go outside. Rack went down to the vet by himself. Explaining the wounds they told him it would cost about $350. Rack decided to not spend the money, Buddy was over the hump, was on antibiotics and the internal wound had just about closed. But it was a week before the swelling went down and Buddy could eat on his own without having to be hand fed bits of food small enough to not have to chew. 

February 12, 2003

About 9AM Rack got ready to go to the hardware store. Rack took Buddy almost everywhere if he knew he would not have to leave the dog more than half an hour in the open car.

“Ride in the car!” The dog painfully rose and squeaked excitement. Out they went and Rack opened the rear door of the Explorer to lift Buddy into the back seat. It had been about a year since he had given up even trying to make the jump. Just then the phone rang. With the beeping of the open door, Rack slammed it shut and told the dog to stay. Buddy laid down in his shady spot under his little tree near the car. In the house Rack found the call to be only a courtesy call which he courteously hung up on. He then stopped to take a pee and went back out to the car.

In the driveway was Paulo in his pickup with the cage in back. He sat on the driver's side writing a ticket.

“Oh come on.” Rack stated.

“Had a complaint he was down the street. I am just enforcing the law sir.”

“Well bullshit. I left him right here less than 90 seconds ago, he went nowhere and you know it. And to top it off, it is impossible that in 90 seconds a neighbor could complain, call city hall, who would have to find you, you get the truck and end up in my drive way. You’re lying Paulo, why?”

“We had a complaint, I am enforcing the law.”

“And you know Paulo, you hurt him pretty bad when you were taking him off the truck last time. That was shitty.”

“You are the one lying! He was never on the truck!”

“What do you mean? Where did you nab him?”

“He was laying up against your front door, which is dog at large.”

“Let me get this right. The day after Chief Jarvet comes to my house and I call his silly dog law silly, you and your friend come by the next morning, grab a noose pole, come onto my property, up to my very front door, noose my dog around his neck, drag him on his back down the driveway, tearing him up pretty bad as he fights the pole, to put in the cage on the back of your truck and taken to the SPCA. Is that right?”

“It’s the law. I am enforcing the law.”

“Paulo, listen to me carefully. If your truck and your ass are not off my property by the time I count to ten, I am going to grab that noose pole there, put it around your neck and drag you up and down this driveway until your face falls off. YOU HEAR ME PAL.”

Paulo did a 911 even before he put it in reverse. The squad car was there within 30 seconds. Lightening fast response time for such important matters here in Suburbia.    

Rack was as angry as he could ever recall being, trouble was in the wind. The police officer talked to Paulo in the street for a few seconds, took the paper work and began writing up the ticket as he walked up the driveway.

“What’s the problem here?” Offered the officer.

“I’ll tell you what the problem is, that little fucker out there came up my driveway last week, to my front door, put my old dog in a noose and dragged him down this driveway, tearing him up bad. For laying down against his own front door for Christ sake. And I would like to get my hands on him.” Rack    

“Sounds like you had better calm down sir.”

“So you are actually writing me a ticket? Do you even know what for?” Rack asked.

“Dog at Large. We are responding to a complaint.”

“No you aren’t, that is a lie. He wasn’t out there for more than 90 seconds. What in the hell is the matter with you people? I got dog catchers and now police officers looking me in the eye and lying. Have you gone off your rockers?”

“I told you to calm down sir.”

“So what is this? Is this what our police force does for the Orange Terrorist Alert that kicked in this morning. Why not do something about that and leave this job to an old woman.”

Noticing the officer reaching behind him for the cuffs, Rack knew enough to back off.

“Okay, I’ll shut up, give me the damn ticket.” As the police left, Rack lifted the dog into the backseat, and went off to Home Depot, steaming.

On the way home he stopped at a Walgreen’s and bought a disposable camera. He took a few close-ups of the wound on the dog (though 12 days later still substantial) and then posed the dog in the two areas where he had been at large. 

February 18, 2003

Rack went down to City Hall in the evening to take his seat in one of the two pews to await his name being called. His was the first.

“Yes sir. To this citation, another was added twelve days later. If I could, I would like to coalesce them into one case and plead not guilty to both.” Rack began.

“That is not up to me, you will have to arrange such matters with the clerk. How do you plead to this citation of Dog at Large?” The Judge asked.

“Not guilty sir.”

“Proceed through that door to the clerk’s office.”

Rack stood in the somewhat crowded office with various police officers and misdemeanorees paying their fines. He was to be given a date to come meet with the DA to discuss the matter.

“Can you put both these citations into one deal?” Rack asked the Clerk.

“Yep.” Carol replied, who Rack was to gradually come to know much better.

“What’s the deal on a jury trial for this Carol? Do I have to pay the jury and the court if I lose my case” Rack asked.

“No, you have the right to a jury trial, with only an added court cost of $25 for the paperwork.” Carol answered.

“Cool. Sign me up for a jury trial!” Rack exclaimed too loudly in front of too many police officers.

“You will have to work that out with your meeting with the DA. Which will be, let me see here, March 11^th, at 5:30PM.” Carol stated.

 February 21, 2003

Rack sat in his office looking out over the front yard, concluding that this entire problem was the architect’s fault. A totally detached garage directly in front of the house rather than behind it. A building that had been converted to a recreation room; phone, cable, stereo, air conditioning and carpeted with a small basketball court in front. For both kids, with lots of help from Flower to keep them home and under surveillance, it had become the hangout for them and their friends. A constant day and night barrage of doors opening and often not closing with the dog moving in and out at will to lay down to be part of the action. The phone interrupted his blame game.

“Hey! What’s going on.” The phone said.

“Hey Bill, not much, still in my dog fight.” Rack replied to Bill from down the street. Though on opposite sides of the political spectrum, they were friends for the few things they had in common, which at that moment, Rack was hard pressed to remember exactly what those things were.

“So I have noticed. Have you read the city paper yet?”

“No, I haven’t. I see it out there on the lawn though.”

“Well Rack, seems you are the star this week.”

“Oh no! Let me go read it and get back to you.” 

On the front page there it was, the line in the sand.

Complaint Desk

The most prevalent complaint, in the last month or two, has been dogs at-large, City ordinance states, in part, that No animals shall be permitted or allowed to run at large within the City. It is against City ordinance to allow your animal outside of your fenced yard without a leash. City ordinance specifies “fenced” to clarify that animals are not allowed to be at-large, without a leash, anywhere in the City. It may seem inconsequential to allow your unleashed pet to hang out in your front yard: but the situation could escalate in a matter of minutes in several directions. It is not worth the risk. Recently, there were several dog incidents within the City. The City animal Control Officer had to issue municipal court citations. All could have been prevented by leashing the animals. 

After finishing, the first thing that crossed Rack’s mind was that after Chief Jarvet heard there was talk of a jury trial, he found it necessary to call in a local reporter to transcribe his thoughts to Rack through the community paper. A warning of sorts. The second thing popping into his mind was much lighter, so light he began laughing to himself. After all, which was the greater risk, the situation escalating into the direction of extreme tail wagging and sloppy doggy kissing of some hapless passerby?  Mutual tail-wagging doggy butt sniffing? Or the real horror of life in suburbia, a possible (or is that potential) doggy poop down by the fire hydrant. Oh the humanity…

Back on the phone with Neighbor Bill, Rack found the community standards driving this at play.

“The bottom line Rack is that the law says dogs must be on a leash in your front yard, and you broke the law. Go pay your fines.”

“Rule of Law. You know Bill, back in school we were often presented with an old question: Are we a nation of law or of men? These days that is no longer a question, but so ingrained a statement, that the men part of it no longer even clicks into our consciousness.”

“That be as it may, you can’t win, you broke the law you pay the price.”

“The Law is not written is stone Bill, but on paper. It can be changed, it can be challenged regarding arbitrary or unfair enforcement, there is mitigation and extenuation, degrees of punishment and even jury nullification as an option. And I think I can get a jury to come my way on this, perhaps not the law of it, but the right and wrong of it.”

“You are dreaming Rack. I could be on that jury and I wouldn’t let you get away with it. I have to keep my dog fenced in the back yard, why shouldn’t you?”

“For Christ sake Bill, you have a Pit Bull!” Rack shouted into the phone.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Bill responded.

“It’s the impetus of the law Bill.”  Rack sighed, “I did my research on this. These kinds of laws came along with not a rise in more dogs or more dog bites, but CDC statistics of dogs killing about 400 people. The vast majority of which have been Pit Bulls, Rottweilers or a mix of those breeds. Communities passed what are called breed specific laws to help satisfy their fears. Suddenly appeared a well funded legal lobby by the Pit Bull and Rottweiler breeders to fight these laws under constitutional rights of dog owners.”

“As they well should! Thank them and the NRA for keeping both you and I free.”

“Indeed, they succeeded. So now city councils are taking the easy way out. The laws now considers all dogs as dangerous as Pit Bulls and Rottwielers. And they aren’t. So that too is unfair.”

“You can’t fight City Hall, give it up Rack, you are wrong, smell the coffee.”

“Okay, all the legalese aside, some asshole came up to my front door and ripped up my dog. A family member. I won’t have it. I am going to fight, and I am going to have my say in public, win or lose.”  Rack ended.

“You liberals, you just don’t have a clue.”

“I suppose you are right; blind faith, blind patriotism, blind obedience and to never question authority is the basis of conservatism. No Coloreds! All Jews report to the train station!”

“Oh come on Rack. There is good reason for this law!”

“Okay, what is the worst case scenario Bill.”       

“A woman with a stroller and a toddler walk by your house, and your unleashed dog attacks them!”

“Gosh. Women with strollers and toddlers have walked by over the years. Buddy lays where he is and each time this has happened, the woman sees the fluffy happy smiling dog laying there and asks if they can come up and pet him. I tell Buddy to “go see” and he goes wagging down the driveway with a big smile and does some kissing, I tell him to sit which he does and they pet him. The horror of it all.”

“What if it’s a person walking their dog?”

“That has happened too with never a problem. In fact it has happened with you hasn’t it? You have told me numerous times that your Pit Bull doesn’t bother people but will kill any other dog it can reach. What happened? Buddy went down to butt sniff it and your dog took a snap at him and he came running up the driveway and laid down behind me.”

“There you go. Why should I have to suffer that apprehension due to your at large dog?”

“Because while I researched and chose the breed of dog that is the least aggressive, has the record of least dog bites and dog fights, you chose the most aggressive, dangerous breed of dog that has killed the most people. While you keep your pet constantly penned in your back yard, I give my friend as much freedom as I can, as long as he causes no trouble. Which he never has.”

“There is just no reasoning with you liberals! Are you telling me Buddy never crapped on someone else’s’ lawn?”

“Ah, finally to the nub of the matter. Every single morning Buddy goes out in the back and takes an enormous poop. He may have pooped on someone else’s lawn, but I have never seen him do it nor has anyone ever complained of him doing it. And you know as well as I that dogs on leashes poop on our lawns all the time. But leash or no leash, it is the bottom line in all this. A possible potential poop has become one of America’s most serious problems.”

“Damn right it is. Dogs have been shot for less.”

“What have we become? And more importantly, where are we going?” Rack sighed.

“If that is how you want to live, move into a trailer park. Gotta go, talk to you later Rack.”

March 11^th, 2003

Rack had spent some hours researching before his evening meeting with the local District Attorney. His central worry going to jury trial concerned rules of evidence. He had five pieces he needed presented to get anywhere. Three pictures of the dog, the newspaper article and a printout from the American Kennel Club website. He was aware that without any legal training the DA and the judge, with input from the city, could roll over him and not allow him to use any of it. Otherwise he felt well prepared. He was planning on going to the meeting alone to not have Flower confuse matters.

It was a half school day and the Little One came home with three of his pals. Rack decided that as they were the ones always messing up the garage, it was time for them to help with its fumigation, though he didn’t get them going until about 3pm. All the furniture, boxes and junk within was stacked around the patio, driveway and under the basketball court. After vacuuming and mopping, the boys went in the house to let Rack slowly refill and re-arrange the building. Buddy got out as they went in the house. Rack was between the house and the garage when he heard the two low barks.

“Damn, he got out!” He cried.

Furniture blocked his way toward the driveway so he went through the bare garage. Before he was even out the open door he saw the officer writing the ticket with Buddy doing tail wagging circles underfoot.

“Gee!  I was right here outside with him. He’s just under the tree chewing on his banky. He’s only been there two minutes!”

“No, you were not here. I saw you come out that building there. Don’t lie to me.”

“I couldn’t get by this way with all that junk you see there. I went through the garage!” Rack whined.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. We had a complaint that your dog was at large and you are getting a citation for that.”

“Who complained?”

“That is not my area, I get called and I respond.”

That was when Rack looked out in the street and saw the pickup with the cage in back. On the front fender sat Paulo, who waved and gave Rack a big grin.

Rack was now the angriest man in the world. He pictured Paulo on the fender going over backwards like a duck on a midway, as he put the barrel to his lips to blow the smoke aside.

“You should be ashamed of yourself.” Rack said to the officer who was now asking for his driver’s license.”

“What do you mean sir.” The cop replied.

“You know damn well what I mean. This is harassment, there was no complaint which makes you and that little prick out there liars.” Rack shouted.

Silently the officer passed the ticket to Rack and went back down the driveway to his car. Paulo smiled and waved goodbye.

The adrenaline surging through his body caused Rack to stop thinking and proceed. He went in the house, dressed for court, took the pictures of the torn up dog and walked up and down the street, ringing every doorbell, talking to every neighbor, saving the problem across the street for last. All of them, everyone, swore they had not made any complaints regarding Buddy and would say so in court. Even old Marvin who years earlier had done a lot of complaining. He swore on the Texas flag, as a veteran and as an American!

Rack rang the doorbell across the street a bit apprehensive. Young Mother Ann answered the door, with one burping on her shoulder and another underfoot.

“Hi Ann! First off I would like to tell you the kid with the drums is moving from an apartment to a house this weekend, along with the drums.”

“I’m sorry about that trouble Rack, but the kid's bedrooms are in the front and the sound just goes right in there. I was next door at Betty’s last night when they were playing and we couldn’t hear it at all, its some sound vortex or something.”

Rack was surprised with the pleasant welcome and went into the dog story asking if they had ever called the police about Buddy.

“Of course not. We love Buddy. That picture is terrible. When did that happen?”

“The day after Jim and Chief Jarvet came by to complain about the eggs.” Rack replied very much embarrassed.

“Oh! We remember that morning. Do you know what happened out there?” She began.

“I know they went up to the front door and noosed him and hurt him for no reason.”

“It was worse than that. We heard a commotion out in front about 7:30am, we went to the front window and watched. The animal control truck was out in front of our house, a blond man was pounding his fists of the hood, while a Hispanic man was reaching in the driver’s window slamming on the horn. I didn’t know what was going on, but Jim said they were trying to draw your dog from up against your door out into the street to grab him.”

Rack was now the angriest man in the Milky Way.

“Would you say that in court?” He asked.

“Sure.”

“Thanks Ann, I have to go to court right now about just this. I’ll get back to you.”

Returning home and grabbing up his paperwork in the office, he called Flower at work. He told her the plan had changed. She had to come down to the meeting to keep Rack from getting off his leash and biting someone.

Rack and Flower sat in the small building from a vantage point where everything could be seen. It wasn’t the usual court night, it was the night for the troublesome not guilty people. They noticed half a dozen lawyers on cell phones moving about. They tried to figure out which was the DA they would be talking to. Small communities had traveling prosecutors who moved from place to place, so you never knew who it was going to be. Same with the judges. They both agreed in hoping it wasn’t that short little fat guy who seemed so angry.

After about a half an hour, Officer Goode called Rack’s name. After a very serious car accident concerning Rack’s oldest about a year earlier, having been on the scene helping extract her and get her to the Life Flight helicopter, Goode had often stopped by during her recuperation to see how she was doing. He was a young friendly sort, who knew all the Jite’s by first name, including Buddy who he also had befriended. The officer accompanied both Rack and Flower to Chief Jarvet’s office, where behind the desk sat the prosecutor. A pleasant looking young woman with an SPCA pin on her blouse. Officer Goode introduced everyone and sat down. Things were looking up.

Sadly, the adrenaline was still pulsing through Rack’s body. A video game loop of firing at Paulo the Duck who would be knocked back over that fender, to pop up and go down again and again.

“I’m mad as Hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!” Rack began. “I just got another one like the two you are holding about an hour ago! While Paulo the dog catcher sat on the fender of his car grinning and waving at me, rubbing it in. I’m mad. Look what he did to our dog!” Rack stood and shoved the first picture under her nose. “And this was taken 12 days later, after it had healed!”

Officer Goode leaned over to take a look, both of them flinched. On his mad roll, Rack then brought out the pictures of the crime in progress.  “This one is where he was regards the first citation. When they came up the driveway to my very front door to tear him up and cart him off!” Rack threw the next picture on the desk.

“And this is where he was, for less than two minutes, when I got the second citation. Also where he was today for two minutes. Sleeping under a tree for Christ sake! And I will be damned if these instances had anything to do with being at large, or it having any adverse affect on this community. AT ALL! ” Rack tossed the last picture on the desk. 

As Rack sat down while the prosecutor and officer went over the pictures, Flower whispered to him to calm down, which he did. “Oh, and here is a one page printout of some facts I garnered from the American Kennel Club’s website. Keep in mind Buddy is eleven.” He added, handing the sheet over which she read over and passed to Officer Goode.

Facts about Golden Retrievers

From the American Kennel Club & The Golden Retriever Club of America

Lifespan. In recent years, goldens seem to be dying at an earlier age. While 13-year old goldens were commonplace twenty years ago, today we consider eleven or twelve years a good lifespan.

Temperament.  Friendly, reliable and trustworthy. Quarrelsomeness or hostility towards other dogs or people in normal situations, or an unwarranted show of timidity or nervousness, is not in keeping with Golden Retriever character.

The Golden Retriever is not intended to live as an outside dog as they are very people orientated and are miserable being separated from the family they love! If you are not interested in keeping your Golden indoors, this is not the dog for you. A lonely Golden may bark incessantly, dig up the back yard or continuously escape to roam the neighborhood.

Golden Retrievers. These are lovable, well-mannered, intelligent dogs with a great charm. They are easily trained, and always patient and gentle with children. Friendly with everyone, including other dogs, the Golden Retriever has very little, if any, guarding instincts. While unlikely to attack, Goldens make good watchdogs, loudly signaling a stranger's approach. This breed needs to be around people to be happy.

Watchdogs They Aren't. Although goldens are successful in many activities, they fail miserably as protective watchdogs. They may bark and growl defensively, but when it comes down to brass tacks, they are more likely to run away or bring an intruder their tennis ball than bite or corner him with a snarl. If you are looking for a watchdog, DON'T GET A GOLDEN! 

Everyone's Friend. Goldens are gregarious animals.  They love everyone, children and adults, family members and strangers. They are very fickle; their best friend is the closest person with a tennis ball in hand.  They are drawn to people in need, especially those who are ill or sad.  It isn't that they are disloyal, they simply have hearts big enough for many people. If you are looking for a one-person dog, DON'T GET A GOLDEN!  

Perpetual Puppies.  Golden retrievers are usually slow to mature mentally and often remain as playful as puppies throughout their lifetimes. They love to play and want to be close to their owners (in the house is essential, in the same room is better, touching is ideal).  Even the most dignified golden will occasionally dissolve into silliness. If you cannot tolerate two years of puppyhood and lifetime playfulness, or if you are looking for a sedate, dignified pet, DON'T GET A GOLDEN!  

"I would be just as angry as you Mr. Jite. It is terrible what happened to your dog, but the law is the law, which you broke.” She said handing back the materials.

Rack immediately un-calmed himself and stood up throwing the local paper on her desk. “Read that! This came a few days after I came down here asking about a jury trial.”

When they both finished reading it Rack went on in the same vein. “See the date on that first citation? The day before that, January 30^th, Police Chief Jarvet came to my house concerning a noise complaint. He dwelled on this dog at large issue which I called silly. Do you really think it just coincidence that after six years of no trouble of this sort at all, 21 hours later my dog is torn up at my front door?”

Both officer and prosecutor shook their heads, explaining that was highly unlikely regarding what a professional Chief Jarvet was.

“You both know better. Though I admit if I were either of you, I would say the same thing. But this is why I am here and why I want a jury trial. Win or lose, I want to talk about this in a public forum, in front of a jury. Let’s find out what the people think about Capt. Queeg and his damn strawberries!” Rack slapped back.

“But still, the law…” The lady began.

“The law? Okay, we got arbitrary and unfair enforcement. I have both local mailmen chomping at the bit to testify about the totally benign nature of the dog, and that at any given time there are a dozen dogs running loose and causing more trouble than Buddy. I have a neighbor across the street who will testify that Paulo and company banged on their truck and blasted the horn trying to draw Buddy out to the street to nab him. I am going to subpoena the complaint records to who, if anyone, complained about my dog sitting in my front yard. I am going to ask for a larger venue so all the people I have told about this circus have room to sit." Rack charged, rolling on.

"Paulo and two police officers stated they were responding to neighbor complaints. I spoke to every one of my neighbors just this afternoon, all of whom swore to me they made no complaints. Two police officers and a city agent lied. I know they lied, my children know they lied. We now know police officers are liars. My daughter was planning on going into police work. Not any more! Great work this silly law has accomplished. Praise the rule of law! All for an ego lightly bruised.” Rack finally ended.

He had gone too far. The woman was visibly angry at Rack now. Flower grabbed him by the belt and pulled him back down into the chair.

“There is no doubt this is the result of some bad karma between my husband and Chief Jarvet. I don’t really have a problem with the law, but they hurt our dog, part of our family.” Flower began. “We have a garage set up nicely for my kids. Unusually, it is directly in front of our house rather than behind it or next to it. We cannot put a fence around our front yard. Buddy is very smart and will get out on occasion with all the traffic. But he doesn’t do anything but lay down at his spot by the door or under his tree. You must understand how important that garage is to me, a mother. I want my children to bring their friends here. I feel safe knowing where they are, it’s real important to me. I want them there.” Rack, sensing the prosecutor’s understanding in this matter, handed flower the picture of the wounded dog. Flower’s lip quivered, a real tear fell, and she ended saying. “They didn’t have to hurt him so badly. He is such a kind loving dog. He has never hurt a sole, not a cat or another dog or has he ever had an unkind word for anyone or anything. And he is old and soon to pass away. They didn’t have to hurt him like that.”

“You are right Mrs. Jite, they didn’t have to hurt him.” The prosecutor said arranging the two citation packets in front of her. She wrote Dismissed on both. Turning to Rack she added. “There is nothing I can do about that third one you got today. But if you present it along with the receipt you will receive for these two dismissals, it should work out for you. Oh, and Mr. Jite, perhaps you should come to the city council meeting next week, for I assure you, you are not alone in this, I go through several like this each month.”

The short ride home was a mixed bowl for Rack. They had won, but not for his research or presentation, or even for the bad law involved, but because Flower found the common ground with the prosecutor Rack had missed. Flower had won it. He had only been along for the ride.

Later that evening the phone rang.

“Hey, how did it go?” Bill asked.

“Cool! Got it all dismissed, Flower won the day!”

“That’s too bad.”

“Too bad? We won! We are all happy! We are celebrating! What are you talking about?” Rack asked.

“All you have accomplished is hurting your dog, your children and your family.”

“Oh come on Bill. That doesn’t even make sense.”

“No seriously. You liberals just don’t get it.”

“Look Bill, you’re a law and order, property values, Pit Bull owning guy. I am more than the opposite of what that all entails I guess. I think we had best leave this issue alone before I start screaming altruistic political rants about STANDING UP TO FIGHT FOR WHAT’S RIGHT!” Rack screamed into the dead line.

March 12^th, 2003

In the time Rack spent looking out the window, he noticed police cars stop in front of his house on four separate occasions, looking for a glimpse of an illegal black nose or the wag of a criminal tail. Boy, do police in these suburbs need something to occupy their time, let me tell you.

April 8^th, 2003

Down at the little court house Rack sat with his final citation in hand waiting for his name to be called. Officer Goode called him by his first name. Good sign Rack thought. He got in front of the judge who asked if he was pleading guilty or not guilty. Rack began explaining. The judge interrupted asking Rack to answer with only guilty or non guilty. Officer Goode leaned over and whispered in the judges ear.

“Do you have a dismissal receipt?” The Judge asked?

“Yes I do, here it is.” Rack said handing them over with the citation.

“Okay. Are you keeping your dog locked up?”

“Yes.”

“Dismissed.”

Later that evening Rack ran into Paulo at the Stop and Go. Paulo nodded to him which Rack ignored. Back in the car, complacent with it all being over, he wished he had acknowledged him. Had talked to him and forgiven him. For after all, Paulo was just the bottom cog in the machinery, doing only what he was told to do.

Buddy died a year later.