Smith And Wesson Forums banner

1 - 2 of 2 Posts

·
Registered
Joined
·
23 Posts
Discussion Starter #1
King was my dog, a Lab/Doberman/Husky?? who lived from '98 to '12. He was 55 pounds of total self confidence. Super smart, stubborn, and as a couple of trainers said, "King takes no crap from anyone!". He wasn't super strong, he had zero pain tolerance, but he was lightning fast and since his best buddy was an 85 pound Pit bull, he knew how to fight larger and stronger opponents. King and the Pit played rough and noisy. This is what he usually did when you tried to get him to come into the house:

Or:



We lived in nice neighborhood, and the vast majority of the neighbors were sane, pleasant people. King and I would go on daily 3 mile walks around the area. In front of one house, there was a granite boulder with the house number carved into it. It was set back about 3 feet from the curb, and it was a dog pee magnet. Being the boss dog King was, he rarely passed by the boulder without hitting it. It had yellow crystals all over it from all the dogs going on it. One day, later in the afternoon, King and I went on our usual walk, and about 4 houses before we got to the home of the man who will be forever known in the area as "Poopman", King did his "business". I picked it up and put it into a bag. The garbage trucks were running late that day and I could hear it coming, so I put the bag into a trash can along the curb.. I didn't want to have to carry it all the way back home, right? After King hit the boulder, we continued down the street. A couple of houses past the boulder, I hear someone yelling. It was the man who soon became known to police, animal control, and two city councilmen as "Poopman". Yes, I gave that name to him. "Poopman" can be described easily, he looked just like the actor Gert Frobe, who played Goldfinger in the James Bond movie, but without the German Accent. I'm talking about a clone. He even had the uneven eyes.

Poopman was running along the curb towards us, yelling, "Hey hey, stop stop!". I stopped and said, "What's going on?". He's all red in the face from running, and he pants, "You get back there and clean up the crap your dog just made in my yard!".I wasn't upset or anything, and said, "He didn't crap in your yard, he went a few houses before yours and I picked it up!". "Liar!!, where's the bag?". I told him I put it in the trash can back where he went..Now he's really hot, and yells again, "You get back there and pick up that crap or I'll call the police!". So I then asked him to show me this supposed pile my dog just made. We go back to his yard and he points at a pile of crap that's got a diameter about the size of my wrist!. I said, "You think that came out of my dog?" "It certainly did!" He says. I rolled my eyes and said, "If you think that came out of my dog, you're crazy!". The pile came out of a very large dog, a suspect, "Sandy" came to mind, by far the largest dog in the neighborhood, a Chocolate Lab who weighed about 135 pounds. Sandy patrolled the entire area, so he was a good bet Poopman wasn't buying it, he was rapidly heading towards the absurd. So he called the police, who came in a few minutes. In separate cars, a patrolman and a Sgt came. They both said, "Hi King!", and maybe that's what set Poopman down the crazy path. Poopman points to the gigantic pile and said, "His dog just did that and he's denying it!. The patrolman looks at it and said, "Wait! You think THAT came out of King?".The Sgt chuckles and said, 'Whatever dog did that was a whole lot bigger than King!". Poopman looked at the cops and said, "I see! You're in cahoots with him!". They tried to get it through his head that big diameter equals big dog, but he was totally off the deep end at that point. He said he was going to call the city Animal Control about it. The two cops were done trying to deal with him and they said, "Have a nice day!" to both of us and then, "Sir, you need to learn the relationship between the size of the dog and the size of the pile!", and all three of us left. The next day, I'm waking out my garage with King and Animal Control pulls in. He's laughing, and said, "We got a complaint about King going in Mr. SXXXXX's yard!" I said, so Poopman really called you? DId you see the pile?"."I tried to explain it to him, but he's convinced it's King that is doing it!" So I meet him back at Poopman's house and Poopman is yelling at the AC guy saying, "Why are you lying for him and that mutt?" The AC guy says, calmly, "Sir, I've tried to explain to you it's not even POSSIBLE for that size of BM to come out of a dog King's size! Have a nice day sir!", and he gets into his truck and leaves. Poopman is fuming, "I don't know how or why you've made them cover up for you, but I'll get to the bottom of it!". King and I walk away after telling him it's time he got some help.

About a week later, I'm walking with King and Poopman's neighbor, a lawyer I knew from where I worked, was working on his old Mustang in his driveway, directly across from Poopman's house, calls me over. He asked what's going on between me and him. I tell him, and he just laughs. He tells me that Poopman asked about suing me for "cleanup of King's mess". I asked him if he had seen the pile? "Nope". I told him how big it was and pointed at King's rear end, and said, He thinks a turd the size of my wrist came out of that rear end!". Here comes Poopman, all wound up, "This is the dog that keeps dumping his load in my yard!". His neighbor said, nicely, "I don't think so XXXXXX, it's too big to be his!". Here it comes, "So you're in cahoots with him too? I don't get it, but I'll figure it out!", and stomps back to his house. Next I get a call from the county animal control. The dog warden is a former neighbor of mine, and he says, "Mr. SXXXXX is making a complaint about your black and white Border Collie going in his yard!". I explain what the real deal is, and he says, "No wonder he went into a whole "cahoots" thing when he was talking to me about it!". A few days go by and I get a call from the first of two city councilmen, who both have seen me and King many times walking around town. I explain what's really going on, and he seems satisfied, the other one calls a few days after that and I"m more blunt about it, Poopman is insane. It's that simple.

Now it moves into the unhinged area. I am leaving the house with King and the police Sgt pulls up and tells me, "Poopman's wife called, he took out his .22 rifle last night, and cleaned it up, muttering about King and you!. I went over there a little bit ago and confiscated it and told him I think he needs to talk to someone about this whole thing!". He said they looked around but didn't see another gun, but he might have one so be careful! He advised me to avoid Poopman's house at this point, as "He's totally convinced there is a conspiracy between you, county and city AC, city council, and the police!". Oh, I knew he was crazy at that point.
A few days after that, I'm walking King and Poopman's wife and daughter are waiting for me on the sidewalk and they told me, "I don't know what to do! He doesn't sleep, he barely eats, and all he does it sit and look out the window waiting for you to come by the house!". I actually ran into them at the local drugstore, where he proceeded to follow me around yelling about me being in cahoots with all those people! His wife is trying to get him to calm down, but he's rolling. I just said, "You need help", and walked away. A few days later..the last act began.

So I was walking King about a half mile from his house and he pulls up in his totally beige Olds 88, and starts yelling, "You get back there and clean up the crap your dog just made in my yard!". I show him the still warm bag of real poop and said, "This is what he dropped, back at the end of my street!". He just starts screaming "LIar! You clean up that crap!", and at that point, I finally lost my temper and said, "Eat it!", and tossed the bag of warm crap at him. He grabbed it and yelled "Ohhhh!" and tossed it back at me. I said, "Did you look at it to see how big King's turds are?". He was too far gone at that point, and was just screaming. I walked away and he was still sitting there yelling at me as I got past where I could still see him. The cops were called again, and he again accused them of being in "cahoots" with me about King's pooping. The Lt now became involved and he told Poopman that "This nonsense of yours has to stop! If it doesn't, you're going to wind up having a psych eval!". A few days later, I was walking King and Poopman's wife sees me and calls me over. "You don;t have to worry any more, he's been diagnosed with a form of dementia and is in a facility!". Turns out, he did have another gun, a revolver and he had taken thousands of pics of King and I from inside his house, none of which showed him doing anything but peeing on the boulder. And yes, he paid to have all those pics developed!

Poopman died a few years later of pneumonia in the memory unit of a local senior facility. But he lives on in the memories of all who dealt with him back then..
 
1 - 2 of 2 Posts
Top