17-MARCH-2008

There's a New Sheriff in Town

It was a very lovely evening, just a couple hours before sunset.  I was at the side of the house untangling a cheap yellow garden hose and catching up on local gossip with bobby Sue, one of my neighbors.  I turned around to step out of the tangled hose and noticed a Sheriff's patrol car pulling up on the other side of John's place.  John, another neighbor, wasn't home, so I wondered what might be up.

There it was:  Jacob.  He's a huge, black Great Dane that lives across the road -- on the south side of US Highway 50.  He's a frequent visitor.  He likes to socialize with the neighborhood dogs.  He's just sort of just a big lummox and completely harmless, unless you're a smaller dog.  Jacob doesn't get to play with other dogs much because he's just too big. He likes people, but keeps his distance.  He's generally wary of everyone.

Jacob was moving away from the patrol car when he came trotting around the backside of John's house.  The Deputy gunned it, then had to stop abruptly because there's so much junk piled around back there.  The big dog move off a way, then stopped.  He looked back at the patrol car, then looked pleadingly at us.  Poor Jacob had no idea why he was being pursued.  He'd just been peering into a neighbor's back door window at their new black lab puppy and visiting as usual.

The deputy looked a tad riled at being eluded by a dog -- even a big one.  He tapped the siren.  It startled us and hurt Jacobs ears.  Bobby and I both called out to Jacob, but he was done visiting for the day.  He gave the deputy one last confused look, then trotted off through the open fields towards the highway and home.  He has his own trail out there.  How he manages to cross the highway at all hours of the day and night without getting hit is anyone's guess.

The deputy whipped his car back around to the front of John's place and stopped in the roadway between my house and John's.  His window was down so I asked if he knew where Jacob lives.  "Who?"  "Jacob, that's the dogs name."  He didn't know. 

I told him it was pointless to chase the dog because he'll never catch him.  That seemed to irritate the deputy even more.  "Well, I can't shoot him!"  I turned to Bobby and in a low voice so the deputy couldn't hear said, "Not with out being reported!"  Bobby laughed and the deputy continued to look annoyed.  I walked a little closer to the cruiser so we could talk.

"The dog doesn't hurt anything and he's over here all the time."
"Well, he's going to start staying home.  I got a complaint."
"I can tell you where he's going and who owns him"
"You can?  Who?"
"The Whites.  He belongs to the Whites."
"Ok."
"They live right over there, just across the highway."
"Where? Which place?"
"Well, if you sit here a few minutes and watch Jacob, you'll see where he goes to go home."
"Which place is it?"
"It's the first road, right there, Mulberry."
"The first road."
"Yeah."
"Ok, the white house on the first road. Got it." The deputy stated as he looked across the highway, picking out the place in his mind.  Just one minor detail.  There are no white houses or white mobile homes over there.
"No, not a white house, the owner's name is White.  The house is tan."
"Which white house?"
"No, it's not a white house.  The house is tan, the property is completely fenced with a high fence and they have a big cyclone fence gate at the driveway.  The owner's name is White."
He points, "That white house?"
"I'm sorry.  I thought I was being pretty clear.  No.  Now listen carefully.  The owner's name is White.  The house they live in is tan.  See that big haystack?"
He looks carefully, in case there's more than one haystack, "Yeah."
"It's the first place on the right past that haystack.  It's the tan place just beyond that haystack and Phil's place with all the horses.  If you pass it and get to anther intersection, you've gone too far.  On your way back, it will be the first place on your left."
He's still studying the landscape across the highway.  The only trees are near the few houses there, most have no leaves this time of year, and they aren't big trees anyway.  There are no hills, overgrown shrubs or structures to block his view -- and yet, he still seems confused.
"The white house."
"OK, well, maybe it looks white to you, but I would call that tan.  A different shade of tan than my house, but tan nonetheless.  The last name of the owner of the dog is 'White.'"
"Ok, whatever… The tan house."
"Yes.  See where the dog is now?  He's just behind the haystack."
He looked closely and finally saw the big, black dog towering over the short scrub brush he was trotting through.  "OK, I see the dog….. and the haystack."
"Good.  Now, see the next place beyond the haystack?  It sits back off the road."
"Oh! OK, yeah, I see it."
"That's where Jacob is going.  His owner's name is White."
"OK.  Thanks."

This might seem like a somewhat humorous, but normal exchange.  Before dismissing it to that category so quickly, consider this:  The view of the terrain for miles around here is totally unobstructed.  There are only three residences on that road, and nothing else.  The intersections are a half mile apart.  It's not like living in town.  And yet, this particular deputy couldn't pull the concept together.  Hmmm…?

The deputy barreled off.  Coincidentally, just as he reached the highway, there was lots of traffic.  He had to wait.  We watched as Jacob went around the front of the fence and back into his yard.

"Jacob is going to be sitting on the porch waiting for him by the time he gets up there," Bobby chortled.

"Yeah, he sure is!  I can't believe that deputy didn't know where Jacob lives — everyone knows where that dog lives.  Only a new guy wouldn't know that."

"Hey, there's a new sheriff in town!"  We're still laughing about it.