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Posted: 12/1/2007 5:48:07 AM EST
[Last Edit: 12/9/2007 12:40:03 AM EST by GENESMITH]
I could not find the original thread for this story, it was copied from “GunnyG” in another thread
|SEC files: Another “seeing eye cat” tale|
I ought to tell you about the time a couple years ago the pair of us got into some real deep doo-doo.
The wife came home, went looking for kitty, and knew I was out shopping for building materials. Thought I'd leave the little guy in the pickup. She tried to come to the rescue. Finds the truck. No cat. goes inside, sees me with sunglasses, cat and cane.
So she has a snit and snatched the cat and started to walk off.
I simply plowed into a pile of insulation, knocked it over, fell on my ass, started swinging my cane and shouted: “Help me! For God's sake! Someone is stealing my seeing eye cat!"
Some guy sees me, sees the wife starting to run and grabs the wife. HIS wife grabs kitty, brings him to me, hooks him onto my leash and helps me up.
The guy who grabbed her hauled out a cell phone and calls the LEOs.
When I heard that, I made some quick excuse and kitty and I boogied. We were leaving in the pickup as the LEOs were coming in.
Wife had to spend better part of an hour trying to explain to LEOs what she was doing trying to steal a seeing-eye cat from a blind man. Of course, a couple dozen honest citizens were telling the LEOs that it REALLY WAS a blind guy with a REAL seeing eye cat, and looking at the wife like she was some kind of evil witch. Why she got off the hook is beyond me, but she didn't get locked up.
Cost me 5 weeks on the cot in the basement, but it sure broke her of the habit of starting spats in public (I hate that $hit. No excuse for public spectacles)
To this day, if my buddy even says 'seeing-eye cat' within earshot of her, I get a REAL dirty look.
Women have NO sense of humor
Again, I could not find the original thread for this tale, it too was copied from a post by “GunnyG”
|OK here it is. Final SEC results|
My neighbor's kid took a spill at basketball and got a pretty healthy sized bruise. No biggie.
The next day at school, the math teacher, a 1st year, high-strung rookie about 23-24 yo) took 1 look at the bruise and instantly called the child welfare people without asking anybody anything about it. Bam! just like that. No chain of command thru the principal, no questions, no nothing! That ain't right!
Of course, there was a brief investigation. No wrongdoing of any kind, still my neighbor was pissed of to the max because he was 'now in the system'.
I got him calmed down and what we did was evil.
He called the school and told them that I was going to pick up his kid after basketball practice. He gave me a note. He waited at home.
I took kitty and we got out of the pickup around the corner, out of sight. Kitty and I did the SEC bit and Trish and Ms Crunt were at the door. I handed the note to the teacher and Trish led me off to the truck asking me who was driving. I said I would if she told me which way to go.
Then Trish asked if we could go to the rifle range on the way home.
Ms Crunt went through the roof babbling all sorts of craziness about a blind man driving and taking a little kid shooting. She followed us out to the truck screaming and babbling all sorts of shit. God, it was funny! Kitty made a beeline for the truck, as he HATES yelling. I followed, guides partly by cane, partly by Trish.
With her carrying on and Trish and I totally ignoring her, it's a good thing there were no witnesses. They'd have taken all three of us straight to the booby hatch.
We got in and fired up the rig and drove off amid threats of LEOs and Child welfare people.
Fifty feet out, we both started laughing so hard I almost had a for real accident.
The bait had been put out, the trap set.
Shortly after I dropped Trish off, Bob got 2 calls, 1 from the principal and the other from Child welfare. Meeting set for after school Mon.
Bob later said that he fenced pretty well with them and managed to make Ms Crunt look like the idiot she is. ('Whadda ya mean blind guy?' He's a Merchant Marine Officer!)
Then he went in for the kill.
He dialed me on the cell phone and I was there inside a couple of minutes, in a jacket and tie, wearing sunglasses. Trish met me at the door and took me to the conference room by the hand.
"That's him! There's the blind man!"
I took off my sunglasses and looked at her like she was nuts.
"You're gonna get fat if you keep up your exercise program," I said.
"Running off at the mouth, jumping to conclusions, and dragging a good man's name through the mud is NOT good exercise," I said.
"But you has a cane and a guide animal!"
"The cane was a stick. I twisted my ankle a bit. Blind people use a foldup cane, if you never noticed, and the animal was a CAT. Who ever heard of a seeing eye cat? That's a good one, Seeing Eye Cat!"
I shook my head, looking at her like she was nuts, and laughed.
The kiddie cop laughed outright. "Seeing eye cat, that's pretty good," he said.
Even the principal smiled.
Ms.Crunt sat there looking pretty damned stupid!
The kiddie cop asked about the rifle range.
Mike said that Trish goes there to practice her Archery so she'll be ready for Spring Archery season, coming up soon. He pointed out that archery was a SCHOOL ACTIVITY and Trish took it last year, and planned to take it again.
As far as the rifle part went, He said that although he never owned a firearm and didn't see getting one in the future, that he wanted to have his daughter learn to safely know how to handle one in case someone ever handed her one.
Then he said, "Capt Pic is on several fine rifle teams and is obviously the guy to teach her. He's actually shot in the National Matches!"(Yeah, the JCG and Springfield matches. BFD)
The kiddie cop seemed impressed, which surprised me to no end. He actually said gun safety was a good idea!
Ms Crunt pouted. She looked on the verge of tears.
I then answered several questions about Bob and his relationship with Trish and then was asked to take Trish home.
We quietly hung outside the room for a while before we left, and there was all sorts of teary sobbing as the Kiddie cop and the Principal went to work on poor little Ms Crunt.
They hammered her big time.
I heard the principal tell little Ms Crunt that "If she saw 50' flames, she was NOT to call the Fire Department until she had notified her first!" More tears.
Trish and I left,with me stopping off on the way home at the liquor store for a 1/2 pint. I was shaking like a leaf. The after action shakes.I needed a belt just to settle down.
We waited about an hour.
Final score: Lions-5; Christians-0.
1.Teacher on probation.
2. Principal pleading for no lawsuit.(agreed)
3.Kid gets tuition for free to grade 12.
4.Kiddie cop made everything go away except 1st contact report, and put a note on that declaring initial complaint proved to be a questionably criminal act on the part of Ms Crunt.(ouch!)
5. Trish pulled out of Ms Crunt's math class and put in another a bit more advanced, and the teacher there is supposed to 'work with Trish' to help her catch up.
Bob owes me a steak dinner,and a new pair of shorts. Kitty gets gourmet food and goes back into retirement.
Again, I could not find the original thread, this was copied from “GunnyG”
|SEC and I get an eyeful.|
The pesky little bastard woke me up early, so we went out early. I grabbed a breakfast sandwich at the local 7-11.
We went to the park, which is near a bus stop.I had my cane and shades on. We sit on a bench and I break open my sandwich and open a can of food for Kitty.
At the nearby bus stop I watch a woman hand this fat broad something. She goes into the park. She pulls a 'Leggs egg' out of her bag.
She sits down on the bench across from me. Takes a quick glance at me and hikes up her skirt and promptly starts changing her panty hose.
I was looking into space. About the time she was pulling her panty hose up, I raised my shades and said:
"Hmmm. My kid brother's Basset Hound has better makings than you."
She lets go a scream.
"But I thought you were blind!"
"What ever gave you that idea?" I asked.
"You got a cane and sunglasses and a guide animal!!"
"It's bright out, this is a walking stick, and whoever heard of a cat as a guide animal?
Besides, you made a really big mistake."
Thank God the bus arrived.
Another one I had to copy from “GunnyG”
|This whole mess started as a trip to visit the vet. As I was leaving, neighbor Bob hopped in with me just to get away for a while. I had packed my white cane and shades because Dr Shirley thinks it’s funny to see us come into the clinic like that. It draws looks from patients.|
Kitty was OK; this was more of a social visit. Dr Shirley had moved and her clinic was across town. I was glad to see her, and so was Kitty. After a brief visit, we left.
On the way back, Bob and I decided that we ought to eat and decided to reroute down to the Strip District. This is the area in Pittsburgh where a lot of good foods come into town, and is just about the only place in the area where one can get decent seafood. At least in my opinion. We decided to hit Wholley’s Seafood for lunch.
”Bring Kitty in with us?” asked Bob.
”Why not. We’ll get him a little piece of halibut.” I answered.
”Ever occur to you that the little guy might go nuts in a seafood place?”
”I planned on it”, I replied.
”A cat in a seafood restaurant oughta be more chaotic than 19 blind lesbians on a tuna boat! Oh, well, what the hell.”
I grabbed my cane, doffed my shades, grabbed the little guy and off we went. Kitty was making a beeline for Wholley’s.
None of us wanted to get booted out, so we played this deal pretty straight. Some boss type looked at us, but decided that he’d probably better shut up and take us at face value. A blind patron, his pal and his guide animal.
He even asked if kitty wanted anything and fixed him up with a very nice piece of baked halibut. Free. Pretty nice of him.
Bob and I had a cup of chowder and a pretty good fish sandwich. We all ate and left.
Bob was chuckling that we’d gotten away with bringing Kitty in with us.
We were headed back to the truck when I saw her.
”Bob, target of opportunity, range 75 yards, It’s that damned reporter that raised hell at the match a while ago” I said, quietly.
”Oh, shit!” said Bob. And with that, he peeled off out of formation like a P-51 pilot after an ME-109. He vanished.
Kitty and I proceeded and the reporter addressed me. I played dumb and kept moving.
”Hey, you with the cat!” she said, loudly.
”Who, Me?” I asked.
”Is that a guide animal?” she asked.
”Now what do you think?” I answered, just on the edge of nasty.
”Would you like to see yourself on TV?”
”Whadda you, some kind of magic eye doctor?” I snapped.
”Oh, I’m sorry”. Anyway, I’m a reporter from STUV-TV and we’d like to interview you. We’ve never seen a cat used as a guide animal and it might make a pretty good human interest story.”
Bam! Snagged the bitch! Payback time!
A few years back when the media was playing the “militia scare” business up, this little twit had shown up at a local sportsman’s club and shot film of the rapid fire portion of the National Match course, zooming in on 2 National Guardsman and a Vet in BDUs. That evening it was aired in the context of being some sort of ¡ “Paramilitary training” going on in the area. The club came damned close to shutting down their DCM/CMP program for a while.
And here I had the bitch! Cameraman and all. HAH! I’ll fix THIS twit!
So I gave her an interview.
I stood there with Kitty, and looked off center toward the camera and explained how Kitty had been trained by a retired Barnum and Bailey lion tamer, and that HMOs are starting to use trained cats instead of dogs, and in general, with a straight face, gave her the biggest crock of pure, 100% unadulterated first-class bullshit that I’ve ever produced.
When the interview was over, Kitty and I started up the sidewalk. Neighbor Bob popped straight out of nowhere and rejoined the formation. He had pretty much heard it all and was laughing himself silly.
We drove home and watched the news nightly for the next week.
I went back to work and forgot about it. I guess they figured out that they’d been had and hadn’t used the tape. It became a dead issue.
I was at sea weeks later, and as I crawled out of the rack, my shipmate looked at me.
”Some guy name a Bob called. He says call home” He said.
I called. Mrs. Pic told me an anonymous caller that was looking for me worried her. She said that there was something about the voice that worried her a bit. She also gave him a date to call me.
I assured her things would be all right, and reminded her that the .45 was ready to go.
A few days ago, when I got home, the caller called again.
He told me that there had been chaos in the TV station a day after the interview. Just a couple minutes before airtime, the cameraman had run a computer search on the subject of “Seeing Eye Cats” and had gotten a link to ARFCOM. Chaos had reigned as they replaced the interview at the last minute with some copy they had on file about something or another. (Mrs. Murphy supplies Mexican Army with Clam Chowder comes to mind.)
Had the interview aired, there would be a good chance that a competitor would have aired it poking fun at the other TV station. This means it probably would have gone national.
The following morning the reporter stomped down to the Police Station demanding that the evil perp that had lied to her be apprehended. The desk sergeant took her complaint and told her he’d look into it.
(Right now my vision is in Black and White. Ol’ Sarge picks up a foot tall Mike: “Calling all cars, Calling all cars, Be on the lookout for a guy with a Seeing Eye Cat¡. Approach with caution! Cat has been reported to be an extremely vicious trained attack cat (Sirens start to whine. A Motorcycle cop adjusts his cap, pulls down his goggles, kick-starts the Harley and comes out from behind the billboard. I watch too much AMC)
Truth is that he most likely tossed the complaint into the trash can, or perhaps used it to entertain the oncoming shift during briefing.
He also asked me NOT to bring Kitty into the city for a while.
Whoever you are, Thank you!
UPDATE 09 DEC 07
Just found this one on the Archive
FINAL INSTALLMENT OF TOKIE
|Originally posted by piccolo:|
This is a PRE SEC tale of Tokie and I, happened about 10 years ago before i started doing the sunglasses and cane business. It really isn't too pretty a story, but I suppose I ought to tell it if the coast is clear.
All I will say is this: It involves a smart ass 17 YO punk kid, a cat, $10, some missing teeth, and a lesson taught regarding cruelty to animals.
The $10 wasn't paper money.
FWIW, the atty visit is family business.OK this is well before Tokie became the Seeing Eye Cat and shot to stardom at AR-15.com. This was when he was just another nobody cat that had been rescued by Mrs. Pic.
Shortly after the little guy came into my life, we found out he was sick. He was eating like a horse, but not gaining any appreciable weight. A trip to the vet and blood work told us he had a thyroid problem. We took him to Cleveland Clinic for radioactive iodine therapy; the offshoot being a visit from the Atomic Energy commission, thanks to Neighbor Bob putting a Nuclear Waste sticker on the trash cans which is another tale of laughter in itself. Oh, well. Someone remind me to tell that tale of woe and governmental stupidity. If it hadn’t been so funny, I swear I’d have shot Neighbor Bob.
Anyway, the little guy got better and would walk with me on a leash and I often took him on my rounds.
Work was going OK; except my vessel had been sold out from under me and I had to go through the madness of the bid process to find another permanent job. I never lost any work, though. I worked relief where they sent me, but I was truly a gypsy. I never knew how long I would be, or on what boat, so instead of using the company supplied bedding, I brought my own in the form of a lightweight sleeping bag. The sleeping bag started getting a little funky, so it was wash time.
Everyone knows that the average washing machine is a little too small for sleeping bags, so it was Laundromat time.
I had gotten off the day previously and still had the sleeping bag in a backpack. I decided to get that job taken care of. I put Tokie on his leash and we hopped into the pickup and off we went to the bank to get some scratch. We entered and the teller smiled, but did not boot us out. Banks are hit or miss over some things, and although this was not a case of Tokie being in his more famous role of a Seeing Eye cat, it did look a little odd. The teller was amused, so the bank let us slide.
I got myself fifty bucks walking money, two twenties paper, and ten bucks silver for the Laundromat. The paper went into my jeans pocket, and I dropped the roll of quarters into the patch pocket of my barn coat. I noticed the quarters were in a new style roll of some kind of plastic shit and scowled until I remembered I had my rope knife in my pocket.
We got to the strip mall where the Laundromat was and I got out of the pickup with Tokie on his leash. He balked a little at first, but started walking alongside me. I had parked some distance away from the laundry.
We wandered up to the start of the sidewalk and started down the strip, sassing by one of the stores. Someone looked at the sight of a cat on a leash and looked amused. We walked on.
A big teenager came toward us, head on from the other direction, and I gave him a passing glance. When he got closer, I looked a little closer. He was about seventeen or so. On an even closer inspection, I realized he was one of those ‘overdeveloped’ kids.
Most of us have had a kid like that with us in school. I know I did, his name was Larry. Larry was taller than the rest of us, and had probably started shaving at about ten or so, daily at about eleven and by the time he joined Scouts, he probably had the 5 O’clock shadow by two in the afternoon.
Larry was a pretty good kid, really. He was sort of a gentle giant. However, some of these overdeveloped kids either from teasing or whatever can turn into bullies. Something told me the kid in front of me had shaken down more than one of his schoolmates for their lunch money.
I hoped he didn’t have a penchant for animal cruelty. I wasn’t going to stand for that for an instant. We faced each other and made our passing arrangements. One whistle. We would pass each other portside to portside, and I veered off to my right to facilitate a save passage. Tokie was hipped up on my portside.
This was my first mistake. I should have held out for a two whistle passing situation, and put Tokie against the building, where he would have been a little safer. The kid held course and speed, but I was still a bit wary. Instinct.
At the last minute, I jerked the little guy out of the way of a mean spirited ‘accidental’ kick.
My temper flared and I called the oversized yard ape a few of the things I heard in basic training and started in on his parentage, birth and legitimacy. Instantly, I knew I had my hands full, so I opened the door to the floral shop, tossed Tokie inside, leash and all, shouted for someone to hold on to him, closed the door, dropped my pack and faced the oversized orangutan.
I wasn’t going to start anything, but I wasn’t going to give an inch over this kind of shit. Not from snot nosed kid like this, or anyone else, for that matter. There was no excuse for this and I wasn’t going to put up with it.
I sucked it in for a second and decided I was going to play this one to win. Not just the battle, but the war. I was not going to go on the offensive. That would be a case of winning the battle and losing the war. I wasn’t really going to go into a defensive position, either. That could be a losing situation. My plan was to try putting myself into a counter offensive situation. He would start it, and I would finish it. I also knew that I had witnesses. The florist had snagged Tokie’s leash and looked out the door window.
I was a bit out of practice. It had been quite a while since I had been in combat, but I guess I hadn’t really forgotten everything. Of course, to the soldier, combat is pretty clear. Win or lose. This was different. I didn’t want to wind up in jail, either. The kid was, after all, a kid. He was boy in a man’s body. In court, they’d put him in a Buster Brown suit, give him a lollipop and he’d look like a nice little boy some mean old guy brutally assaulted for no good reason. I’d hang.
We exchanged insults, I was soft, and he was very loud. This was another thing in my favor. The witnessing florist couldn’t hear me, but she heard his threats. They were loud, ugly and violent. This was in my favor.
I egged him on quietly another time and he played into my hand. He shoved me.
I hit the wall harder than I had to, for show and bounced off.
“Don’t hit me!” I shrieked in a loud, high pitched panicky voice. He neared me again. I held up my left hand as if to fend him off and he neared me closer. Suddenly, my left hand thrust forward and arrived in his face. My index and middle fingers hit his eyes.
Moe Howard would have been proud of me. All of those episodes of The Stooges I had watched over the year had paid off. I had disabled my opponent with a near perfect Three Stooges two finger shot in the eyes. However, I realized I had screwed up. I had pulled the punch a little too much.
I figured I had only a few seconds before the shit was going to hit the fan and that things were not going to be very nice. My kindness was hurting me badly. I pulled the punch because I wanted to simply temporarily disable him. I didn’t want to detach retinas or do permanent damage.
I figured I had a couple of seconds, and it was time to end the fight here and now. I balled my fist and at the last minute, realized that I was making the same mistake twice. My hand darted into my coat pocket and I grabbed my ten dollars laundry money and stepped to his left side and waited a second for him to move his hand. He moved it out of the way, exposing himself for a good shot and I took it. I hit him as hard as I could, heard a snap and wondered if I had busted a finger like I had years ago.
The kid hit the pavement like he was a sack. His mouth was a bloody mess and I knew it was over, at least the combat part. I also knew I had to boogie on out of the area, and fast.
The door to the florist shop opened and two women walked out. One of the women looked at the kid, then at me.
“That kid has been trouble for months,” she said. “He finally got it.”
The other woman looked at him a bit more carefully.
“Why didn’t you just shoot him?” she asked. She was being sarcastic.
I lifted my coat, exposing a .380 automatic. “I didn’t think that was necessary,” I said. That opened here eyes wide for a second.
“I guess you’re right,” she said. I relaxed a bit. I knew these women would tell the police what happened and put me in a good light. I snagged Tokie and started to leave.
“Leaving?” asked the florist.
“Yeah, I’m an adult and he’s a kid,” I said. “Under those circumstances, I’m going to wind up in jail. If I leave and you two tell the cops what happened, there’s a good chance they won’t come looking for me. They’ll take your word for it.”
“I think you’re right,” said the older woman, thoughtfully.
The younger woman then did a funny thing; she took some flowers out of a vase and poured the water on the kid. He moaned softly. “They do this in the movies,” she said.
I took off.
Three miles down the road, I pulled into a bar with Tokie and downed a fast triple shot of brandy. I was trying to beat the after action shakes, but I was too late. The bartender knew something was wrong, so he ignored Tokie. The shakes started in hard, so I downed another. Then I realized I had slammed about 8 ounces of hard liquor on an empty stomach. I was hosed. Driving home was out.
I asked for the phone and called Neighbor Bob at work. He grabbed an employee and was there in about fifteen minutes. They took my truck home with me in it.
About a week later, I ran into a cop I knew at the 7-11 and he gave me an odd look and asked me a couple vague questions, I gave vague answers. I swear he knew about it.
A month later, I passed by the florist again and she told me that she didn’t think I had anything to worry about; it seemed the cop who showed up knew the kid was a troublemaker, too. She also told me she had overheard the paramedics say it looked like a broken jaw and some missing teeth.
I’m not really proud of this, but it is part of the relationship I had with Tokie, and it belongs with the Seeing Eye cat stories. FWIW, I have changed the places slightly and mentioned no names.
I’ll say this: If Tokie was still alive and this happened today, I swear I’d do it all over again. I can’t stand animal cruelty.
A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.
-The Constitution of the United States of America, 2nd Amendment