Not My Meme! #934

I have relinquished my power over others. I will not relinquish my power over me, nor defense of those I care for. When, a short time back, I was performing service that required cutting water to an entire neighborhood of ~40 homes, and the repairs I was effecting were extended by complications beyond my control (rotten pipes from the 50's - 70's, serially and consecutively bursting when repairs were managed of the contiguous section), one of the residents then without water accosted and railed at me that I was seeking to exert power to rule the neighborhood by means of shutting off their water near dinnertime. I was compelled thereupon, as briefly as I could, to insist she fuck the fuck off so I could get back to work and get their water restored.

Banished from my presence, she proceeded to parade around the neighborhood and prophesy calumnies to come as a result of my labors, to an astonishing lack of pelting with rotten fruit and vegetables from long suffering neighbors that knew her well (apparently she was quite scandalous in her youth, beset with a beauty that caused most of the old men locally to become adulterers, which engendered a rabidly vicious streak of gossip that persists to this day, some 40 years on).

That is the extent of my exercise of power over others of late (other than vowing to go John Wick on someone that threatened to 'do something' to my new cat, Bruno, she accused of meowing piteously and excessively, in the event he suffered so much as a scratch, which I reckon a right reasonable response to the threat. She then strove to gather defensive forces nominal to enable her murderous purpose, but no one of sound mind is interested in mounting barricades around her hovel whereupon to be picked off by a 1/4 minute of angle shooter for attempting to prevent her from suffering the just consequences of churlish felicide. Also, everyone likes my new cat (except my other cat, Scampers, a former feral barn cat (I inherited from the horse rancher, Marty, whom died of a heart attack one day, but was revived by paramedics and was strapped into a gurney kicking and biting, and whisked off to hospital, so I, being a good neighbor, offered to tend to Scampers until he returned, which, Marty, not being a quitter, did not do, but kept dying until he died to death, leaving me obligated to attend to Scamper's every need until I am re-acquainted with Marty, or Scampers is) that rules his allodial realm with charitable tolerance, reserving only to himself exclusively the right to lounge atop vehicles, which is why my new cat cannot be incorporated into my household (Scampers, despite being half his size, kicks his ass with feral barn cat ferocity if he sets a paw inside my fence, according to copious tufts of Bruno's hair in my postage stamp yard) but must sleep in the cozy bedding in the Rubbermaid storage container laying aside beneath, and protected from weather by, his former home, where I feed and water him (with permission from the householder, who does not want him, but neither wishes him ill). Scampers allows Bruno to accompany me on my daily inspections at the nether reaches of his demesne, where he used to follow me, but now affects disinterest in that leg of my daily perambulations, to the water meter where I can furiously pet his long fur and do my best to remove the dreads his tongue cannot keep up with, despite this precipitating blood loss when Bruno delineates limits to my ministrations), whom is quite personable for a ~15 pound Maine Coon with six toes and belligerently jutting jaw, and was abandoned by his former owner, whose philanderings were discovered by his baby mama and was evicted precipitously). Nonetheless, these scabrous hags, somehow both withered and bloated, afflicted with some form of schizophrenia evident in their fantastic delusions of my pretensions to rule the block (and my new cat's deliberately piteous meowing with criminal intent to disturb), neither lacking comedic aspect, constantly pierce my reputation with both pitchfork of slander, and attempt to burn it to the ground with the torch of libel (fortunately on Fakebook, where I do not venture and am not confronted). As a result of their constant maligning, I am even more in demand from folks that are unfortunate enough to know them, and consider their deranged screeching about my (and Bruno's) Machiavellian purpose(s) to be excellent advertisement of the quality of my services.

In the nearby town of Beaver I am being awarded a cherry pie (with ice cream!) for Freedom Day out of solidarity and gratitude for my fostering since early May of an abandoned puppy, whose owner will be enjoying the accommodation availed by local government until sometime this fall. However, three households (with 5 children and 4 dogs) have now taken over Chewy's care, after watching me walk him daily and teaching him to heel, sit, and stay (mostly because he is exuberantly incorrigible, and my ruthless insistence he not maul small children and little old ladies by leaping upon them, knocking them down, and joyously slathering them with dog spit with his tongue, tugged on their hearts more powerfully than the choke chain tugged on his neck to preserve their tender hides and brittle hips. Unhappy he managed to tangle himself with the 5/16" aircraft cable I attached to the 50' lead I acquired to keep him outdoors (and prevent the aptly named Chewy from consuming every item of bedding in the home the householder has temporarily vacated) they got him a retractable lead of mere 3/16" cable, which he promptly snapped by repeatedly clotheslining himself with it until he escaped and managed to knock down the little girl, whom now sleeps with him in her arms every night. I only recommend they use the choke chain, which they refuse and rather bear the wounds their reticence causes, not command, and while I internally lament he has forgotten all the training, I say nothing because his circumstances are paradisiacal compared to the mere hour or so I could afford him of a day. However, the scoundrel that failed his responsibility to care for him has managed to get money on his books to make phone calls and wept to his father that he can't get him back now, because he can't take him from the little girl that has fallen in love with him. Now the excellence of the foster care his puppy has been availed has produced resentment for me, and soon I expect local guests of the county to be agitated and roused against me, too, and my reputation will climb even further.

Two more decks and a siding repair have sprung up there. I am booked into September now. If they keep it up I'll be working Christmas day. Now I'm off to remove and replace a bathroom floor tenants left a leaky supply line wetting long enough to rot it until they fell through, despite I last replaced it only 7 years ago. If I want a day off I'll have to be mean to kittens and puppies, and God save me, I cannot do it.