Six Degrees Of Separation

I am known to be a soft touch,especially to people who are down on their luck.
The other day a young couple, who would best be described as street people,approached me in my cab. Their story was that they were trying to get their dog out of the pound,so they were going around town, trying to raise cash. The girl was crying,fearing that if they were not able to put enough money together,the dog would be put up for adoption or worse.
I of course felt bad for them,and I gave them $10.00 towards the $90.00 they needed to spring Fido. They were very grateful, and later that day I heard that they were able to raise enough money to get the dog out. I also heard that they got a basement apartment and were able to move out of the rundown motel that they were living in. I was pleased to hear that things were coming together for them.

Today as I sat in my usual spot at a plaza waiting to get a dispatch,a buddy of mine walked over to me.The first thing I noticed was  his best friend- an old golden retriever-was not with him. He was also limping and his right hand was covered in wounds. I asked him what happened,he told me a new couple had moved in next door,and that they had a Pit Bull.
The Pit Bull had attacked his dog and was ripping it apart,when he stepped in and tried to save it. My friend ended up with numerous puncture wounds to his hands-and torn muscles  in his leg,from kicking the pit,in an attempt to get it to release his dog. When he was finally able to get his dog free,they were both covered in blood. He rushed the dog to an emergency vet, where after hundreds of stitches they were able to save it. The vet bill was $3,000 which my friend had to borrow to save his gentle friend.

As you may have guessed by now,the people who moved in next door to my friend,are the same people, who had the day before, asked me for money to help get their dog out of the pound. And yes their dog was the Pit Bull, that ripped my buddies best friend apart.
I felt absolutely terrible about this whole situation,and no I didn't have the courage to tell my friend that I knew these people,nor that I contributed to getting their dog released from the pound.

Small Town Life.

After writing in my blog yesterday,about the kid I had known way back when. I started to think about all the families and individuals,I have come to know over the years. I have had many customers,who's kids I have watched grow up.From grade school,to high school,and often to college.Its great to see these kids and/or families mature. Some are sad stories,but there is often good ones as well. I can't drive down the street,without someone waving to me or vies versa .I picked up a beautiful young lady yesterday . Soon as she settled into her seat,she looked at me and said,"hello Joe"! I didn't quite recognize her,until she said "I'm Meghan,you used to take me to school,when I lived on Lawrence,with my folks." She is now the manager of a large pharmacy in town.After dropping her there,I thought it lovely that she would remember me ,and the cab rides to school. But small town life is like that,and I like that.

Predictable.

I picked up a young guy today at a government housing project. He was heading 20 minutes north to Colburne. (I have changed the towns name and the guys name,to protect his privacy) He was going up to the Provincial Police station there,to be fingerprinted.As he had been previously  released from custody, with a promise to appear.  It is a fifty dollar run each way,and he wanted me to wait,so it was a good fare.
Being as inquisitive as I am (ok just plain nosey) I asked him what he had done, that required him to be printed. Apparently he had been involved in some B & E's and was in possession of some cocaine. He told me it was all pretty dramatic,with the cop's kicking his buddy's door in and having their guns out.
There is not a lot of crime up this way,so I can only assume the cop's love a little action, when they can get it,or maybe even when they can  create it.
As we drove north, I looked over at this kid, something about him looked familiar. I asked him his name and he told me it was Lance. I asked him if he had lived at the address where I picked him up,for a long time? Born and raised he said. He had also just turned 18 a few days ago,and that tied in,because  this is my 18th year driving cab in town. Suddenly it kicked in, the memory of a mouthy little kid,with a  mop of curly blonde hair and an unusual name.I recall he stood out among the other kids in the complex,and unfortunately not in a good way.
So here he was all these years later,and in trouble with the law.I asked him if he was using legal aid,in order to get a lawyer. No he replied,"I have a lawyer,and I gave him three grand up front. "
Wow I said,"thats a lot of coin little brother." No sweat he said,"I have more money then I know what to do with." He did pull out quite a wad of cash,when it came time to pay me. Alas the only people I know, who carry that kind of cash around,are dealers. When I think back, to what this kid was like when he was young, it was all so predictable.