Oklahoma Or Bust

Back in December I searched the web, trolling over possible deals and went to the Delta Airlines site and out of an abundance of curiosity, looked up round trip ticket prices to Oklahoma. I have an Uncle and three cousins who live there. To my amazement it was nearly as expensive a proposition as I feared. As a matter of fact it was quite reasonable to fly. Of course, it was in economy class and lacked the amenities of first class, but it was reasonable and to me that’s all that matters. 

My uncle’s birthday falls on February 14th, and I thought a nice and pleasant surprise for him if I came and wished him a happy birthday in person. As I mentioned to my other friends, he was the only member on my mom’s side of the family that ever bothered to send me birthday or Christmas greetings. That’s out of five surviving brothers and two surviving sisters, though one is presently in a nursing home for people with dementia. I emailed my cousin that I’d like to come. She said, “Come on down!” 

The Trip 
Airline travel is so convenient these days, though I still had this apprehension, dread or phobia that I guess is in the back of all our minds. After all, we aren’t biologically supposed to leave the earth and experience something totally different such as flying.

I packed my bags Friday afternoon and my grandson dropped me off at three for the 5:37pm flight out of Spokane. Since 9-11 we all have to go through the TSA pre-flight screening, getting our carryon bag checked, getting our persons pated and screened. Most had to remove their shoes though I didn’t, and my hands were tested. 

After the screening I went to an open area. I saw the boarding area and figured I’d wait just down from there expecting to be Johnny on the spot when it came time for the announcement to broadcast over the PA that the flight was ready for me. 

I wrote in my lap top my upcoming blog and waited for the announcement. At 5:27 I heard, “Jerry Schellhammer if you are still planning to leave, your flight is waiting for you.” 

“Crap,” I exclaimed as I rushed to put everything back in my laptop case,  I walked with a purpose with the gate which naturally was the last gate, waling a good quarter of a mile to board my plane. “Better late than never I told the boarding agent.” She greeted me with a friendly smile.  

“Do you need assistance getting on?” She asked as she scanned my ticket. 

“No, I think I can make okay,” I said, smiling back at her as I walked quickly down the boarding ramp and onboard the plane. I chose the last seat on the port side. An attractive 30 something woman with chestnut hair sat on the outside of the seat. I was on the window seat, and we smiled at each other as she moved out of my way and I maneuvered myself into the desired seat. It wasn’t an easy feat, but I accomplished it and relaxed as I the middle-aged stewardess asked me if I needed help fastening my safety belt. 

“No I’m fine,” I told her, not realizing how long ago since I last flew.  My left hand and arm didn’t function as it used to. I was having issues but rather than ask my partner for help I made my adjustments and finally figured it out. 

“Where are you going?” She asked me, imagining I’m this world traveler off to another adventure in some exotic paradise. 

“Oklahoma City,” I replied. 

“So am I,” she exclaimed with irony in her voice. 

“Yeah, I’m going to visit my uncle for his eighty-ninth birthday on Tuesday.” 

“Oh, that is so sweet.” She settled into her seat and pulled out her cellphone. I looked out the window and saw the flight crew outside finishing up and the ground-guide holding his red lanterns up and the plane slowly backing away from the loading zone. 

I observed the scenery, the tarmac, and the taxiway and finally the runway itself when the pilot hit the afterburners and it took off, ascending and lifting off the ground, feeling the g-force suck me into my seat, lifting vertically at a forty-five degree angle and then the pilot banked left. 

I watched the city lights reverted smaller and smaller, fading away and other smaller town appeared and disappeared as the plane and me and the passengers were in our own world. I relaxed and pulled from my laptop case my dinner of two sandwiches: tuna and cheese, trail mix and a granola bar. I ate relishing the meal while seeing my companion. She appeared to be reading seeming in her cellphone. I remembered to get out my cell and read a kindle book I’ve been reading lately.  

After I finished a majority of my meal, I did just that and continued reading the e-Book from where I left off on Monday after my last work break. Most books I’ve read were for the most part well written, but lately I’ve come across and this one is the worse of them all. I realized how badly written this book was when the author stated the cars they were looking for was a 70s model Ford Fairlane and a 70s model Ford Polara. Ford stopped making Fairlanes in 1970 and Dodge made Polara. Every since I’ve had my doubts of this writer’s authenticity. 

After an hour I heard the chiming that the plane was readying to land at Salt Lake City. I observed the city lights below of Provo and then the bigger metropolis that is Salt Lake. I braced for impact, but the pilot landed the plane without incident. After getting off the plane a Delta agent asked if I needed assistance going to my next boarding area. She had a wheelchair. 

“No, I’m fine,” I replied. Upon hindsight I should have taken her up on her offer. I didn’t realize how far I actually had to walk down this long aisle to the next boarding ramp. I didn’t realize how big this airport was. Thankfully I didn’t have to lug my suitcase too. It was being safely and hopefully, with care taken to the next plane bound for my destination. The boarding zone that read Oklahoma City was way, way down there at least half a mile away. I also mistook the seating assignment for the boarding zone and found myself at the flight bound for Philadelphia. I quickly realized my error and soon found the placard that stated Oklahoma City.  

I just made it when I saw I could’ve very well missed that flight had I stuck around that Philadelphia boarding zone an extra five minutes. I made it to my seat and sat down. This time I didn’t have anyone sitting next to me. I didn’t see that one lady who I sat with from Spokane. I figured she was somewhere on this plane, and didn’t concern myself about her again. Afterall, I’m still a married man for the time being. 

Like earlier I watched the goings-on outside admiring how the flight crew worked. Thirty years ago I could have done that I suppose but chose another career path instead. We departed Salt Lake City and watched the flight attendants demonstrate how to properly fasten the seat belts and the place the oxygen masks over our faces in the unlikely event of sudden cabin pressure loss. 

I opened my story from the Kindle and continued reading this lame excuse for a book. To my chagrin, I wasn’t even a quarter way through this and I had already loss interest in how this book was going to end. I now began admiring reviewers who had the patience and perseverance to keep reading a badly written book. I hoped my stories I’ve written didn’t come off like this. 

Three hours later we landed in Oklahoma City. At night it appeared as flat and unwelcoming as it might appear had it been day. I didn’t notice the city’s skyline because I was on the wrong side of the aircraft and the Oklahoma City Airport, named after Will Rogers, was still a good ten miles away. 

I felt the plane land with a bit of a jarring and sudden stopping. It then taxied to a stop in front of the loading gate, and we all deplaned. The woman who I sat next to walked passed me and told me to enjoy my stay here. 

“Thanks, you too,” I called back to her and I continued to where the baggage claim was, down stairs and near the Delta terminal entrance. I had to take my phone off airplane mode and use the restroom before going to look for my cousin. When I finished I walked outside trying to see if I could spot her car. Of course I had no idea what she drove. I just assumed, like in the movies she would hold a handwritten sign with my name on it. I tried calling her but it went to voicemail. I became nervous. I then called the house phone, but it too went to voicemail. Now I became worried and nervous. Then my phone rang, and it was her. 

“Where are you?” She asked in her Oklahoma drawl. 

“I’m sitting in a chair waiting for you. Where are you at?” 

“I’m in front of the Delta terminal. I have a blue Hyundai Sonata.” 

Delta? I thought I was in the Delta. I looked around and realized I was in a generalized waiting area and went outside, looking both ways. I then saw the car in question. “Oh okay, I see you now.” I thought of waiting for her to come back around to pick me up but decided to just meet her at the car. Naturally, I assumed she came here alone. Imagine my surprise after loading the suitcase into her trunk that an old man was sitting in the front seat looking at me with a curious expression on his weathered face. 

I placed myself in the back behind Uncle Hal. He wore a tan jacket and black Veteran’s ball cap. “Hey there Uncle, I didn’t expect to see you.” 

“Jerry, he can’t hear you,” Cousin Saundra told me as she got behind the wheel and placed the car into drive. She pulled away and I saw on the digital clock on the infotainment screen it was after one in the morning. 

“How was the flight?” Uncle Hal asked. His southern accent is more Texan than Oklahoman, though it’s hard to distinguish the two with an untrained ear. 

“Great, sir,” I told him louder and clearer than earlier. I noticed his hearing aids on each ear for the first time. He was in artillery and served in Korea, Germany and Vietnam, among others for over twenty years before retiring. Obviously, his hearing was the first c casualty of his service. Saundra drove me to a hotel in Moore, explaining she still wasn’t quite ready for me just yet. 

I didn’t comment on that figuring she had her reasons and left it at that. I didn’t care at that point since it was past my bedtime and I had one thing in mind to do when I opened that room door, undress and go to bed. Tomorrow was a new day. 

The Party 

Last weekend my stepdaughter invited me to a gender reveal party. The idea behind this was to relieve undo stress on her friends on what to get her for her baby shower. I guess now that the ultrasound they have nowadays are so advanced the gender of the unborn is guaranteed. 

At any rate I went to the party after getting home from work. As many of you my loyal readers know my stepdaughter, her husband and children live on the same five-acre parcel of land with a double wide mobile home as I do. I live in a fifth wheel trailer about two feet to the left of the said mobile home.

I actually looked forward to this because I was hopeful for a little girl so she could have an additional girl making it slightly more even, considering there are three boys and one girl already.  I don’t know how many Emily, my stepdaughter invited but the house filled up after about two hours. It appeared we had more people than places for them to park. The property has a long and narrow one lane path that reaches the barn and the garage/shop for Nick, her husband buying, refurbishing, and reselling used cars. uses for his business. It’s not tree lined but rather a barb wire fence in need of restringing and tightening runs along the straight and narrow drive. There are a number of stumps that hide themselves nicely in the still abundant snow pack that has laid on the ground these past three months now. 

You can imagine what occurred next, since I pretty much set up the scene. The driveway had filled up nicely, along with the opened area where we maneuver our vehicles to go underneath a carport where they’re already parked. Naturally, the last person who showed up in her Toyota Highlander got herself high centered over a stump as she tried valiantly to park her SUV. 

All the virile, young, and able-bodied men showed their daring-do by going outside and chivalrously dislodge her car and set it gently down next to the stump. Ironically enough, she told the stepdaughter she only came to drop off something because she had another engagement to go to. 

The food was brought out. It was a pot-luck affair where everyone, cognizant of possible food allergies prepared an assortment of dishes using a variety of recipes, without peanuts, gluten free, or vegan, using almonds and cashews for protein. 

I was pleasantly surprised by the creativity these dishes were inspired. They all tasted good, and I didn’t feel I missed anything with these alternative meals. After everyone ate we were treated with desserts of pies and blue and pink cupcakes Emily created using gluten free flour, I don’t rightly recall its name. I had a slice of the peach crème pie that I bought for this occasion. The other one I bought was an apple. I thought for sure the apple would be gone in no time. No that wasn’t touched. Instead, the peach crème pie was the first casualty. 

The moment of truth arrived as Nic was instructed to sit in the center of the room and await a gift that he was to open, that would reveal the baby’s gender in the form of its sleepwear. 

We all waited. I stood near the living room next to the dining area where all the food was displayed. He tore at the wrapping and revealed, after tumultuous drum roll, hands on padded seat or sofa cushion. The sleepwear was revealed in the form of jammies with feet and in the color of blue in case there was no doubt with little toy aero planes flying about the sky. I supposed the blue was the sky, though it seemed more a darker Navy than robin’s egg blue. 

There was a split second of silence followed by a communal “Aww!” Then a combination of whoopin, hollering and cheering.  Nic sat there gathering it all in. A sense of deep emotion affected him as he buried his face into the PJs and wept. His stepson Isaac came over and hugged on him. The stepdaughter Makayla videoed this on Facebook, for all the friends who didn’t make it an opportunity to witness this moment too appeared joyful. Emily smiled broadly, and the other two boys appeared taken with the emotion of the moment with their festive whooping and giving some high fives. 

After about three or four minutes the place settled down and Nic announce, “My Spirit gave me a name, but all of the girl names I suggested, were not cutting it. I then knew I was blessed with a boy and now here is the proof.” He pulled the latest ultra-sound photo of the fetus and sure enough there was a boy’s little penis there between his little thighs. “I’m naming him Ethan James.” 

“That’s a great name,” Many in the room announced in agreement. Everyone slowly threw on their shoes and coats and maneuvered themselves so others would leave. I ate another slice of pie while I watched the goings on of people leaving and others saying their goodbyes to the hosts. I finished my last bite and told Emily I’d see them in the morning before going to work. 

She smiled at me. “Maybe Nic, I’ll be in bed sleeping. Thanks for showing up.” 

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” I replied as I pulled on my boots and winter jacket. I went outside and descended the steps with the help of someone’s hand on my left elbow as I grasped the fast filling up garbage container with my right hand. I maneuvered around him and walked slowly to my fifth wheel trailer, the hopeful pink rubber band still wrapped around my black coffee mug. I was so hoping for another girl for Emily and Makayla to play dress up and teach her to become a lady. 

Lessons From Martin Luther King

It isn’t the most eloquent quote he made in his short life on this planet, but I think it is quite fitting.

After all, a man or woman can’t react unless their blood is stirred into a passion for change.

When I wrote A Man’s Passion, it was a reaction I felt upon seeing the images displayed at the Peace and Justice Museum after watching the 60 Minutes episode highlighting its true intent. There are equally more invaluable quotes made from equally wise men, such as “Those who don’t learn from the lessons of History are doomed to repeat it.” Or my favorite, “Judge Not, less you be judged.

I’m sure many of us had hoped the lessons of Martin Luther King would have shined like a beacon of luminescent brilliance on our collective soul, just as those wonderful quotes from Jesus and Aristotle. But alas those truths rarely reveal themselves except once or twice a year, then only in times like this one when we honor this man’s greatness.

I found these great inspiring quotes from the internet. They are nuggets of truth, written and orated in a turbulent time by a man who, like Jesus, died too soon. It is what I consider our greatest irony of humanity that the good and great die off first, while the truly vile live to see the fruits of their corruption, greed and hatred go to seed to be harvested over and over again.

Much of what I write is based on my belief of whatever I feel is wrong with the way I view the world. I want to see humanity at its greatest, yet while many things have changed but many other has not, such as an impermeable passion for hatred and intolerance. It crosses every socio-economic class. It tears at the very fabric of our democracy and sense of decency. I pray for understanding in this time as we celebrate the greatness of Martin Luther King.

The You Tube Interview

It was a bit more than I anticipated. I actually thought this was going to be a radio interview, but as you my loyal readers will see, it was a You tube video and radio interview.

For those of you who have read my book and wish to see me write more thought provoking literature, have your friends watch the video that is about A Man’s Passion.

It is a marketing tool and I think it came off okay. I do get very emotional because, well that’s my baby that I’m talking so proudly about. I put a lot into the story and if I got caught in the moment, then so be it. Like I stated in the interview I carry my emotions on my sleeve.

As I have said to many of you, I am in this not just because I have something important to tell the world, but I also wish to make money doing this so I won’t still be cleaning toilets and mopping floors well into my eighties. It is my hope I can get many more people to watch this interview interested enough to buy and read this book.

The trailer, which I presume will air on You Tube as well, will be out later either this month, May or next. It’s still in production as I write this blog.

Out With the Old

The news was good. The person allegedly responsible for the quadruple homicide of the University of Idaho college students was found in Pennsylvania at his parents’ house. This person was a post graduate student working on his doctorate in Criminal Justice at Washington State University.

At his point everything is based on whatever evidence was recovered that day the four young adults were found, is sealed until he is extradited back to Idaho.

It is hoped that if this is the person responsible, he will be found guilty of murder and justice will prevail. There was a news conference held Friday informing us the public at large that a man by the name of Bryan Christopher Kohberger was arrested for the homicides of November 13th.

Which brings me to the other news I wish to share with my loyal readers. As the old cliché often and truthfully conveys, “truth often is stranger than fiction.” The story also affected me in most extraordinary ways. Moscow, Idaho is only eight miles away from Pullman where I went to college back in the eighties. I went ahead, shelved the Mobley story and began a new story based in part with those murders.

Rather than Moscow, the murderer in this story resides in Bozeman, Montana, home of the Montana State Bobcats and Chrystal Gilderbund’s alma mater. Unlike my killer though, Kohberger allegedly has no motive for killing those students. One has to wonder what is in that sealed affidavit, awaiting the arrested man’s appearance when he is extradited back to Moscow.

Christmas Wishes

Hello everyone. I hope everyone of you, my loyal readers enjoyed the story I wrote for you. I’m wishing everyone my best Christmas wishes and a Happy New Year.

A lot of things happened while I sent you, my story. On November 21st I celebrated twenty years of sobriety, a personal milestone I will always cherished.

I understand there a was election that didn’t go as predicted by a former president and the rest of the Republican Party. I’m not gloating but knew so long as that person continues to run his mouth about election fraud and the 2020 election being stolen, the GOP will suffer.

The great Russian invasion has floundered, and eligible Russian men are leaving in droves while Putin still can’t figure out why his great Russian Army is losing. I know why, he has no strong NCO corps to inspire his troops. Officers alone cannot do it. Their corporals and sergeants are needed to lead the troops into battle, not front-line officers.

Of course, as in every year we all must say goodbye to those we loved, respected, and admired. Now I can’t remember off the top of my head what personalities we’ve seen go but understand they will be sorely missed.

I’m going to see my sister in Bend, Oregon for Christmas, leaving early Friday morning, hoping no major weather issues affect my travels. Sorry Cathy, next year for sure in Burley.

So, there you have it, what I missed telling you the time I was in hiatus, in a manner of speaking. My next blog will undoubtedly be after the new year. Enjoy and good tidings to all.

Boomer Ang: Part 7

“What is he doing here?” Julio Rodrigues demanded as Chief led me into the in-tar-o- gation room. It appeared like the other rooms with a table and chairs with one handcuff tightened over Julio Rodrigues’ good hand. His other hand, the one I bit and crushed, is all bandaged up. “I’m gonna sue the department for allowing that vicious animal to attack me. You broke my hand!” He pointed his bandaged hand and one of his fingers at me.

“Grrr, Ruff!” I replied with equal malice. I’m not done with you yet. I still want so much to squeeze my teeth into your throat and taste the blood pouring out as I break your neck.

“Down, Boomer, go lay down there,” Chief ordered me. I went to the corner and laid down. Chief sat on a chair; another man sat on another chair across from Julio Rodrigues. He was there when we arrived. He opened a folder and whistled loudly as if he was amazed at something inside.

“Mr. Rodrigues, you should be in prison with all of these crimes you have on here,” the man said. I began cleaning myself. “We are here to rectify that issue tonight, Mr. Rodrigues. I am Detective Norris. I’m taking over for Detective Mike Flowers. Before I begin questioning you I am required to read you your Miranda Rights. Mr. Rodrigues you are being charged with two counts of first-degree murder and one count of attempted murder on a law enforcement officer.

“Mr. Rodrigues you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be held against you in the court. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney one will be given to you at no cost.

“Do you understand your rights, Mr. Rodrigues?” “Yeah and I want an attorney too. He’s Robert Proctor.”

“Oh, so you are in high cotton aren’t you?” Chief asked. I look up at Chief and wonder why he said something so odd. My ears perked up with curiosity.

“He’s my old man’s lawyer!”

“Here’s my cell phone. Go ahead and call Mr. Proctor. Chief looked at his wrist watch. I can’t tell time but figured as dark as it is, this Mr. Proctor was probably in bed asleep.

Julio Rodrigues grabbed the phone with his cuffed hand, then glared at the two. “I need to dial his number and some privacy, please?”

Chief used his key to uncuff the shackle and both men left the room. He punched the phone with his good hand. “It’s me, Julio. I got arrested. Murder but it ain’t gonna stick.

Anyway, I need you down at the Gooding Police Station. They want to question me about me killing Ang and Wintersong.

“Tell them, I’ll plead guilty to hurting that cop tonight. My shotgun accidentally discharged while I was hiding in the closet. Because I had just shot Wintersong. It was self- defense. He came after me with a gun at my old man’s place in Jerome.

“The other one? Oh, Bob Ang. That was pay back for that car accident three years ago. I don’t care if it was an accident. He screwed up my leg and killed my mom. He had to pay. He was drunk or high. He got arrested for it and went to jail which wasn’t nearly long enough.”

There was silence on his end, while I heard the man talking on the other end tell him, “Don’t say anything. I will be there in half an hour, Julio.”

I look up at him as he put his phone back on the table. He stared at me as if realizing I never left. I growled back at him in warning. He seemed prepared to do something; making up his mind between evil and good when the door opened and Chief and the other detective came inside.

“It’s time to process you, Mr. Rodrigues,” Chief told him. I went to him and licked his hand; thankful he came in just as he did.

“Fine,” he snapped angrily. “I’ll be out on bail soon enough.”

“That’s unlikely unless Grandpa Julio has mighty deep pockets,” the detective said. “We picked up your accomplice on a traffic stop using that same Honda Civic used in shooting Mr. Ang. He just now confessed that he drove you to that house and shot him. So, we have you for the murder of Robert Ang as well as the shooting tonight and the attempted murder on Detective Mike. At this point we don’t care what excuse for an alibi you have, Mr. Rodrigues. After the trial you will spend the rest of your life in an Idaho corrections facility.”

“My lawyer will…”

“Your lawyer will try and plea bargain on your behalf, is all you can expect,” Chief replied. “At this point we don’t need a statement from you at all. I’m sure your lawyer already suggested you not answer any questions until he shows up.”

“Was that dog bugged? Were you listening to our phone call? That’s illegal, you know.”

“Not at all, Mr. Rodrigues. I have been in law enforcement over twenty years and know the drill quite well,” Chief replied. “There is nothing new here. Tomorrow morning when you go to your first pretrial hearing the judge will ask for a plea and your lawyer will undoubtedly reply not guilty and then ask for some ridiculous sum for bail. Then you will get your first taste of incarceration because I would imagine our judge here will not give you bail or the amount will be beyond your ability to come up with the sum reasonable for a bail bondsman to take.”

I look at Julio Rodrigues. He snarled at Chief but said nothing. They stare at each other an awfully long time. Then all three got up from the table and walked to the door. I follow them out and then go into the breakroom where I flop myself on a soft cushioned couch and close my eyes.

End

Boomer Ang: Part 6

The door was already opened and I sniffed. I recognized many different odors but they all were unfamiliar to what I remembered, and then I smelled the body. It smells somewhat familiar but from where? I sniff the man’s clothes some more. It was the man who came to the house before Master Bob was shot. I looked up at Detective Mike, to say it wasn’t him, and continued sniffing.

I found another scent though. The same scent as the crippled man. I tried pulling away to find this odor. I literally pushed everyone in the room out of the way, sniffing for that same odor as earlier and this morning. “Woof,” I told Mike as I pull him with force to the other side of this house. I couldn’t begin to tell you what’s inside because my focus is fully on this scent.

I find a room in the back of the house where the scent appears most pronounced. “Woof, Woof, woof,” I announce that I found him.

“My God,” Detective Mike announced. “Officers, deputies, he’s in here. I heard Detective Mike shuffling the leash to his other hand and grabbing for something else. I looked up and saw it’s a gun. I feel three times scarier than before. “Okay Rodrigues come out with your hands up!”

Nothing. I have this overwhelming need. I feel my kibbles wanting to come out the other end. I released my odor bomb and it smells bad.

“Jeeze what did you feed him?” An officer asked Detective Mike who’s also behind me.

Detective Mike gagged for breath but didn’t let go of the leash. “Go ahead!” The door broke open with a bang and wood fragments flew in every direction. It’s empty, but the smell is still there in this room. I move ahead to another door and bark. There behind that door.

“Come out Rodrigues. It’s the police!” Detective Mike announced.

I heard a muffled sound coming from inside. “BANG,” came a roaring boom that splintered the door to pieces and there he was the man who shot Master Bob last night. His face had an evil and frightening look of desperation, fear and a willingness to die right there. He broke open the gun to place in another shell.

I didn’t realize the leash felt so suddenly slack from a second ago and jumped inside the closet, grab his hand and clamp my jaws tight on this man Detective Mike called Rodrigues.

“Ahh! Get him off me!” He cries out. It sounded chaotic behind me as another person pulled hard on my leash and drag me from this person, but I refused to let go of his hand. I tasted his blood. I wanted to kill this Rodrigues above all else at that very second. I let go of the hand in hopes of springing up to his neck and giving him the kiss of death with my teeth and jaws.

But someone pulls me out from the room and the house instead. It wasn’t Detective Mike but that other officer who asked him what I ate. “I’m suing all you!” That man inside screamed. “He broke my hand! It’s mangled!”

“You did good, fella,” the officer told me as he scratched my ears making me a new friend. Two more cars with flashing lights came. This one stops abruptly and two men ran by

carrying boxes and two more men came inside hauling a bed on wheels. Where is Detective Mike?

The man who blasted that hole through the door came out shackled and mad. He glares at me and I growl back, “WOOF, WOOF, WOOF!” Two officers push him down the steps and he limps to the police car and I watch them push him inside. They get in and leave with the prisoner in the back seat. Where is Detective Mike?

I smell him coming out. He’s hurt because I smell his blood. I whimper at the unfairness.

I watch those two men came out carrying Detective Mike on the bed with wheels. A tube is attached to his arm and a plastic bag lying on his chest, and a mask covers his mouth. I see his breath on the mask appear and disappear. “Woof,” I begged him to get better. There were bandages wrapped about his face and neck and body. Someone took off his white shirt and tie.

Those men ran passed me and inside that big red and white car with red and white lights flashing. They drive away with the siren wailing. I howl because the wailing hurts my ears. The sound continue long after they leave. More people arrive and then Chief comes out. His face seems set with a certain determination.

“I’ll take him with me,” he told the officer who held my leash. “Come on Boomer. You get to come home with me.” I looked up at him with a sad expression. I whimpered at him. He tugged on the leash and I slowly followed him to his car.

He talked on the cell phone that he had on him. “Yeah, it’s Mike, he got hurt serving that arrest warrant. He’ll be at the hospital in Gooding. He’ll be fine I’m sure. Do me a favor and go pick up Mary so she can take care of the necessary paperwork. I got his dog and will take him home tonight so she doesn’t need to worry about him too.”

He got inside the car and closed the door. “Well, I was in the other room when it happened. The perp apparently was barricaded inside a closet with a sawed-off shotgun. It went off and Mike caught most of the splintered fragments. It cut him up pretty bad, but like I said, he’ll be alright. I love you too. Bye.”

He put the cell phone back inside his dark colored jacket and zipped it up. “We’ll see how he’s doing, Boomer and then I’m going to interrogate that man who hurt him and killed your master. I guarantee you he’ll get the death penalty when I’m done with him.” I laid on the back seat and moped in sadness that twice someone close to me has been hurt. Chief said Detective Mike would be alright, but I still feel sadness like a heavy anchor filling my heart. I could still taste him on my mouth and tongue too. It’s a vile and evil flavor like a bitter root from tree or thorny bush.

Boomer Ang: Part 5

When we got home, I guess it’s actually Detective Mike’s home because I became homeless when Master Bob died. But I digress because I’m a dog after all and back to the story here. We arrive at Detective Mike’s big house and big property and he led me to my kennel with my doghouse and inside was my blanket, Master Bob’s old and torn sweater, and my toy bone and red rubber ball Master Bob always played fetch with me all the time.

Detective Mike unleashed me and closed the kennel door. True to his word, he let the other dogs out to play and mark their territory as if they were signing a contract and run free while I watched this with unhidden envy and anger.

I moped and felt the sadness begin and wondered if I was going to stay here after he caught that man who killed Master Bob or sent somewhere else. Daisy ran by and wagged her tail vigorously. I couldn’t help but snarl and bark at her to leave me alone. Her grin stayed

plastered on her face. She sniffed around the kennel and then the other three dogs bounded to where Daisy sniffed and tormented me.

Brutus was the big rottweiler. He jumped onto my kennel apparently wanting to knock it over, but I think Mistress Mary nailed it down. I snarled and bit at him, and he did the same thing, our muzzles mere inches from the kennel’s barrier. Then the other three did the same as if wanting me to fight them to establish hierarchy. Though I was the low dog, I wasn’t about to show it by backing down to them. Rufus was a lot bigger than me though. The other dogs were roughly my size, Daisy and Carmen, a Pit/Lab mix slightly smaller.

Though the other three seemed to just go with the flow, and were not as snarly and ferocious, Rufus seemed most angry and serious that I would dare inhabit his territory. He seriously wanted a fight, and I felt more than happy to oblige him by snapping and biting at his paws. The airs on my back showed to every dog there that I too am serious and won’t be messed with. I made it clear it was time for a showdown to see who is top dog here.

Suddenly water got into the mix somehow. I turn to see where this water came from and Mistress Mary, a cigarette dangling from her mouth held a garden hose and had a nozzle spraying all of us dogs. I had no choice but to cower in my doghouse while the others ran in all directions to avoid this unwelcomed invasion.

“I am the alpha here!” Mistress Mary screamed out. She scared me and I cowered more while Rufus was getting the brunt of the watering as well. He ran with his tail between his legs and his ears pointed down to his pen and hid in his doghouse too.

She then released the nozzle sprayer and set the hose down next to her on the lawn, lit her cigarette and watched all of us with a glaring stare as if daring any one of us to rebel against her

command. I watched her and then looked at the other dogs. Slowly they left their shelters and approached Mistress Mary, wagging their tails slowly. Carmen and Daisy began licking Mistress Mary’s hands and face.

“Stop!” she ordered them and they did, turning over on their backs and showing their bellies to her. She scratch their tummies and then told them, “Lay down here.”

They laid down at her feet and finally Brutus, a mixed breed even more unusual looking than I and Rufus approached with their tails wagging too. I watched it all with envy. I want to be part of the pack too! I whimper at her to let me out to get to know these other dogs too. We just got on the wrong start, that’s all. I promise to be good.

But she seemingly ignore me and I don’t know why. Did I make her that mad at me?

Maybe Detective Mike doesn’t want her to get friendly toward me because of the bigger dogs. I watched her rub the bigger dogs’ backs and ears before she stopped and went inside the house. The four dogs made their way to my kennel. They sniffed at everything. I allowed it, to a point until Rufus and Brutus raised their hind legs and marked this as theirs.

I suddenly jump from my house, snarling and barking. I was mad that they would so disrespect my property. They snarled back, looked at the house and walked calmly back to their pen, laying down in front of their doghouse and watching me.

Daisy and Carmen stayed with me for a time until they too went to their pen. They wrestled with each other, playfully nipping each other’s muzzles, tails, and ears. I laid back down too. I sniffed at my bone and chewed on it slowly, relishing the soft rubberized chew toy’s feel and resistance on my teeth and jaws.

Night fell just as suddenly as in the Gooding place and the dogs bid their times watching me, eating from their individual bowls and playing until we all closed our eyes to sleep for the night. A car came into the property which alerted Rufus and Brutus. Both bayed at the strange car and then I followed suit, barking in earnest. All four then ran after the person going into the house.

“It’s me!” I recognized the voice of Chief. They all sniffed and wagged their tails at the familiar man. Did he bring treats? I smelled food coming from his car. I stop barking when I saw him disappear inside the house.

A moment later Detective Mike comes out and opens my pen. “It’s time to go back to work, Boomer.”

I wagged my tail with an abundance of enthusiasm, running quickly to their pen and raising my hind leg. Both big dogs came out to challenge me but Detective Mike called them back and I finished. I ran back to him and into the back seat of his car. A moment later we were out on a highway heading down from the Gooding place at a high rate of speed as another set of headlights followed close behind us. I looked back but only saw the glare and I turned away. My night sight was shot now and all I see for few seconds are star bursting things.

We came to a town and slowed down until we got onto a much bigger highway. This one had two lanes going the same direction and two opposite lanes going back where we just came from. We were going even faster than before. Then I felt us turning off this highway and stopping. We turned left and went into another town. We then stop and I see many cars parked on either side of a street, completely unfamiliar to me. I sniffed the air for a familiar smell but everything came back alien and unfamiliar.

Mike opened my door and placed a leash on my collar. He pulled the leash gently and I jumped down and headed to a house. I smelled blood before we even reached the door.

Something about this made the hairs on my back stand on end and my tail pointed straight out. Is this what Detective Mike meant by work?

Boomer Ang: Part 4

“Chief, I got a witness who gave me a credible lead,” he said to a rather big man who wore suspenders over a white shirt and had a bolo tie drawn partially down to allow his top button to be opened. I sniffed his cotton trousers; he owns a poodle and a cat. He drinks coffee and just ate a donut. I was also getting hungry and so I sniffed the air for those same donuts.

“Why is he here?” Chief asked. I looked up and wagged my tail up at him. His face gave me a serious, abet curious expression. A bushy beard covered most of his face and his eyes were warm and gray. His beard was white.

“He’s our prime witness and he led me to a part of that street about four houses down. A man named Walt Jones told me an 80s or 90s model Honda came in front of his house and man came out and walked up the street. The man has a limp.”

“I see, well I guess we could deputize him and make him your partner until we get this person arrested and off the street.” He bent down to me and brushed the hair on my neck and back with long and smooth strokes. “You did good, didn’t you?” He abruptly arose. “Go and see if you can get CCTV footage of a similarly described car from the last couple days or so. Besides the limp, anything else?”

“He mentioned that he wore his pant down like gangbangers do so their boxers show.”

“I hate when they do that, except when we’re running after them in pursuit. I remember one time when that happened up in Kennewick before I got this job, a Mexican illegal gangbanger who was wanted for killing his girlfriend tried getting away on foot after we crashed into his getaway car. He didn’t get far because his trousers were so low pass his hips he tripped and fell, losing his pants in the process and me and another officer had no problem arresting his punk ass.” He laughed heartily at what he said. Detective Mike chuckle along with him. I am hungry and thirsty now.

I whine up at Detective Mike pleading with him to give me water and a donut or something. All that dog biscuit did was make me hungry for more and thirsty. “Come on Boomer, let’s do some detective work.” He tugged on my leash to get me going where he desired.

“When was the last time you gave him water?” Chief ask Detective Mike. “Water?” He asked as if the thought never occurred to him.

“It’s kind of important to survive. We need it, plants and trees need it and this dog most definitely looks like he needs it.”

“I’ll get right on that sir.” “You do that.”

He led me to an area that looked like a kitchen at Master Bob’s house with a sink and a white cubular thing that store cold food. Next to that was another cubular thing they put cold food in and it makes an odd noise for a minute or two before beeping and they bring the cold food out smelling hot and tasty. Master Bob had one of those too. I heard he called it a microwave but I don’t understand that means.

Detective Mike search in the cabinets and drawers for something. He found a large bowl and set it inside the sink and turned a tap the poured-out water. He then shut off the faucet and brought the bowl down to me. I sniffed it briefly, looked up at him, wagging my tail in appreciation and began drinking noisily from the bowl, lapping at the water voraciously as though I hadn’t drank in days.

Detective Mike watched me. I don’t understand why humans like watching me drink water or eat my kibbles. It must be a habit for them, as though maybe they’re envious or something. Master Bob did that too, even when I was hunched down and unloading last night’s dinner, Master Bob stopped what he was doing and watched me. Could I have some privacy please? I so wanted to tell him. If only I could talk like a human, things would be so much more simpler for me. At least I could have told Detective Mike when I was thirsty and hungry.

I finished and looked up at him, trying to tell him I was still hungry by whining up at

him.

“No, you can’t go outside,” he said to me, totally not understanding what I wanted. He tugged me and went to another room that was cold and smelled of wires and bright shiny lights flashed off and on. There were what appeared like TV sets, but much smaller than what Master Bob has. Each TV showed cars going back and forth and a human wearing a uniform watching this screen. But he didn’t look happy at this job he had. He had thinning black hair and wore glasses.

I panted and he stopped what he was doing and turned around, giving me a surprised look. “What is this dog doing in here?”

“He’s mine, Frank,” Detective Mike said. “Lay down over there, Boomer.” He pointed at the corner of the room far away from the sad man and the TV set he was watching. “I need you to find any surveillance video of a blue Honda Civic or Accord, lates 80s or early 90s. It was after noon, closer to two yesterday.”

He gave me an indifferent expression and Detective Mike a scowl. But he got up from a chair that stunk of his farts. He went to a long box about his height which was shorter than Master Bob or Detective Mike. He opened a drawer that had numbers on it and looked inside. He then pulled out a round and shiny disc inside a clear plastic case. He handed Detective Mike the disc and said, “Good luck. Give it back when you’re done.”

“I was hoping that you could look at this,” Detective Mike protested.

“You can hope in one hand and spit in the other. See which one grows faster. I don’t got

time.”

“Thanks for nothing,” he said with anger in his voice. “Come on Boomer, let’s not take up anymore of Frank’s precious time.” I followed Detective Mike but turned around as Frank

held up a middle claw from his paw or hand. I guess these humans have hands instead of paws and fingers instead of claws. At any rate Frank seemed upset by whatever it was that Detective Mike said.

I follow him to a table and he sat on a chair. I laid down underneath his feet. I close my eyes while I sniff the environment of this work place. There were many human odors I had to distinguish as well as that of food and sneakers that were in need of replacement, a toilet that might need to be plunged, more food…I was getting more and more hungry. I sighed heavily.

It seemed like a long time passed before Detective Mike yelled out, “Chief, I found something.” Chief came over and I smelled ham and cheese and mustard and bread. He has a sandwich! I raised my head up and wagged my tail energetically, hoping he’d get the hint that all I’ve ate today was a stale old dog biscuit.

Instead, he placed the sandwich further away from me and used his other hand to scratch my ears. I wasn’t complaining but that sandwich was what I really wanted. I whine in frustration. Both men look at the screen seeing a blue colored car. It looked familiar to me too. I remember it came by sometime recently, maybe last week or last month, I don’t remember exactly, but two men were inside and one got out and walked to Master Bob’s house and rang the bell, but that day Ginny Fur took him some place and they didn’t come home until later. They left. I remember the one who drove that car got out, while the other stayed inside and waited. Were they the killers?

“Did you get a license on that car?” Chief asked.

“No, not yet, but I’m hoping maybe when he drives back out by Ridleys we’ll catch it

then.”

“Use the camera at the highway intersections of US 26 and Main Street,” Chief commanded.

I saw him pressing his fingers over this thing with multiple buttons that he also used something that looked something like a giant mouse attached to a cord that he clicked. I noticed the next image came up and sometime later that same car drove through. “There he is. Okay, I’ll stop it here and see if I can zoom in on that license plate.” He kept clicking the mouse thing until he stopped. “That’s as good as it gets.”

“Send out a bolo for that car to the State Police. He came in from the south so he might be from Wendall or Jerome.”

“You got it Chief,” Detective Mike told him.

I’m still hungry and Chief laid the sandwich down on the desk next to Detective Mike’s cup of cold and stale coffee he must’ve had yesterday. I help myself to the sandwich, swallowing it whole while they continue finding out about that car.

“Hey!” Chief yells. I sheepishly look at him, wagging my tail, feeling it hit the desk leg repeatedly. “Maybe you should feed your dog. He just ate my sandwich,” Chief told Detective Mike.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he apologized. “Bad dog! Go lay down.” I felt sad he called me a bad dog twice in one day. Master Bob never did that. I laid on the floor underneath the desk. It felt cool on my belly. I lick my paws to give me something to do while they continue looking at that car, frozen on that TV screen.

I heard him punching on that board thing some more. “It’s registered to a Julio Rodriguez. It’s in Jerome alright,” Detective Mike said. “I can call the sheriff there and see if we can go to his house.”

“That’s what the BOLO is for. Knowing a lot of those kinds of people, he’ll screw up somehow and get pulled over for some traffic infraction and we got him.”

“Right, Chief. I do see two men inside. But the image gets blurry as I try to zoom in on

them.”

“Use the filtering. Better yet, Hey Frank, come over here a sec.”

I heard foot falls from heavy boots approach, and then stop just inches from my right flank. “What is it?”

“We want to sharpen this image,” Chief said.

“Excuse me,” Frank said and I heard the chair Detective Mike sat on, retreat and Frank took his spot, just inches away from my back paws. I felt nervous and growled a warning. I heard Frank rapidly punch those buttons, I guess that’s what they’re called and grabbed the mouse, clicking, clicking, clicking until he stopped. “There you go. Anything else?”

“Not at the moment, thanks for your help,” Chief told him. I farted a ripe one.

“Oh my god!” Frank states because he was closest to me. He bent his head down and saw me. I barked and he jumped. “What is this dog doing here?”

Doesn’t he remember? “Woof, woof.” I reminded him.

“He’s mine and helping in this investigation,” Detective Mike said.

“I got allergies and don’t like big dogs anyway. They’re nasty, disgusting creatures.” He scowled at me then abruptly left.

“I could say the same thing about you, Frank,” Detective Mike called back.

“Don’t worry about him, Mike, he’s always been like that. That is a lot better image. You said the passenger was the suspect?”

“That’s according to Walter Jones.” “That’s the old man you talked to?”

“That’s right. It’s the house across the street from that one that got busted a year or so ago just after you came on board. It’s still shut down.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t doubt it. The homeowner was using it as a rental and lives out of state. He didn’t know a thing about this. That it was a gang house and a drug house,” Chief informed him. “Is it up for sale?”

“No, I think the bank foreclosed on it. The house is all boarded up.” I finished licking my front paws and gravitated to the rear area. “That’s too sad.”

Funny, he didn’t say that with sadness in his voice. He sounded rather happy about that. Was he being funny? Humans are a funny animal. They say things they don’t mean and expect who they’re talking to get the part that’s supposed to be funny. I watched both men above me, giving them curious expressions. Detective Mike didn’t give him a reply. Perhaps it wasn’t

funny. He was tapping on those buttons again and then asked, “Does that look like a gangbanger to you?”

“Not unless he’s the founding member from 60 years ago.”

That elicits a chuckle from Detective Mike. I sniff the TV screen and see with unfocused eyes a long-faced man with brown skin and white hair. I wag my tail at Chief to acknowledge yes that is funny. “I don’t believe that is our unsub.”

“No, but it might be a possible relative like his grandson. Those families that come here, stay together through generations, pool their money they earn to survive and well, I’m envious we forgot how to do that. There were families from other countries that do the same thing. I bet they don’t have half the issues we have when it comes to caring for the elderly.”