Friday, July 20, 2007
(Please start reading from 7/18/07)
Dusty noticed how the officer’s blue eyes picked up a gleam of light from the window. She realized that she had been a little argumentative and abrasive, and decided to take another tack.
“I’m Dusty, officer. May I offer you a drink?” As Dusty talked she realized that all of her glasses were coated with years of dirt and that the officer’s complaint might be further enhanced should he accept her offer.
“Ma’am, I’m just here to let you know that you may only have domesticated pets in your house. The dog is fine, but the dust bunnies will have to go.”
“Officer, to do that would like cutting . . . off my fingers. Perhaps I could apply for a zoning variation.” Or divine dispensation, she thought to herself.
“You are welcome to have your day in court, but until then . . . .”
At that the officer brought out a dustpan and small broom from his brief case and started to scoop up some of the rabbits.
Dirty Harry started growling and barking, alternatively. Tears starting rolling down Dusty’s eyes in a steady stream. Life had gone from bad to worst in one fell sweep.