Thursday, July 14, 2011

Sunsets on the Old International to Paris

 I'm not as astute as my husband is, I tend to walk around with blinders on but because I now know her, I start to see Paris around the neighbor hood. Usually free and unattended, under cars around tires, scrounging around trash bins, rolling in the stinky and nasty.  Because of her masculine silhouette once I mistook her as a male Dachshund and pointed her out as a new male Dachshund in the neighborhood to my husband on one of our drives out. To which he gently reassures me that no, it is actually Paris. I'm in a little disbelief. We muse on what might have come of her puppies. She looks different to me. Perhaps she has just grown up more. I can feel my husband bristling some as he comments on how she is out again and that she is going to be picked up by the dog catcher. It's obvious he loves her. I feel a little bad for him and his attachment and the feelings of helplessness he must feel. We drive on in silence.


A couple months later we slip into summer, the streets are filled with kids, especially our street on the one side of our home because it is one of the only long flat straight roads to play on. Along this side street we have our 1975 International school bus waiting for renovation into a motorhome. When we came back from our camp trip, we found our bus had been vandalized. The bus has had it's time of attracting the on the run criminals and curious opportunists, so every time someone is on the run the police come to inspect it for this reason. We wondered what happened while we were away. We have no clue as to what happened.

The next weekend we go away again for entire weekend. When we get back  there is an even more damaged bus awaiting us. It is clearly being vandalized and my husband has a feeling it is neighbor hood kids. With-in a few hours of being home the teenage girl across the street from us who does allot of baby sitting comes over and tells us our bus is being vandalized and that she knows who is doing it. So, off goes my husband and the babysitter. 


Rescued by Daddy Bones
Due to the fact that supposedly the police can not hold a child responsible under a certain age for the vandalizing that they would not allow my husband to file a report on any of the guilty children and also because they said he got verbal agreements from the families that they would be responsible. Well, no-one stepped up and made payments, though my husband went rather routinely to collect. On one of his attempts to collect trips around the neighborhood the mother of the boy who owned Paris and was a main culprit offered Paris to my husband, saying that her eldest son came home to live and he is allergic, so they need to get rid of her. So, came home my husband with his little golden charm dog. My husband never went out to collect again after that and then shortly sold the bus for scrap metal. I think my husband felt like he got payment enough once he got to bring Paris home and seemed to just let it all go after that.

More later about our lives with Dachshunds.


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