Just Passing Through

Occasionally, more often than not, the folks in the 'hood will cut through the newspaper's lot as a shortcut on their way to wherever they are walking.  I say "wherever" because I still haven't figured out where they go.  Cutting through the lot negates having to walk about a block and a half.

My friend, at the newspaper, got fed up with folks walking into the yard and taking his pears so he gathered a lot of brush and piled it across the usual entry point.  It worked for a while--stopping both the foot traffic and the "theft." But the brush has dried up, started to blow away, and is not as effective as it was.

I experience a bit of pass-through traffic, as well. Since I'm not always at the kitchen window, I usually don't know when the yard is used as a shortcut. But I was there this morning, fixing breakfast, when not one but five showed up.  "Are you kidding me?"

 In a straggling line, different heights and widths, here they came, with the shortest one, barely able to keep up, bringing up the rear.  From the front, right through Patio 2, up on the stage, and out of sight.  The nerve of them, parading through my yard as though they owned it.

Racing to the kitchen door, I see them crossing the back of the property.  Oh. No. They are going to get the hell out of my yard. By the time that I fumbled the door open, they had gone down the driveway.

Five mutts, dawgs--if you will, were out for a Sunday morning stroll. Some had collars; a few didn't. Alpha male was in the lead with the others following close behind. The poor little fellow bringing up the rear was a distant fifth.  His little legs were too short. I could only laugh.  Just passing through. 

Be safe. Be Blessed.