The Reluctant Reptile Wrangler

When I was down at the Dahlin House for my Brother's Memorial service I gained a couple more stories and felt that this would be a good time to tell you this one.  This funny story was told to me by Jack Cano (pictured to the left). We walked from the backyard around to the front yard to the exact place where this particular event took place - some hundred million years ago when dinosaurs and hippies co-existed.

(Pictured below is Jack telling me the story)

Just in case you haven't been following along with the blog from the beginning; the back drop for this humorous incident began years earlier when the Dahlin boys began their rather extensive reptile collection.  We had cages built into the walls of the older boy's third-story bedroom and cages built into old TV consoles we had converted into desert habitats. We had rattlesnakes and king snakes and garter snakes and the infamous Iguana Del Diablo (blog post 8/1/2013) up on the third floor. We had the alligator (BLOG post 11/1913), a giant bullfrog and a snapping turtle out back in the pond and our rather illustrious collection of four legged reptiles down stairs in the converted TV sets.

Most normal people sat around their TV sets in the afternoons watching cartoons or Bewitched (or the crazy Smith girls around the corner who had their eyes glued on Tom Jones in his glittery jacket and tight pants - Gross!) but the not the Dahlins. We were far from normal!

Instead, we sat around (like in the picture above) crammed in front of one of our gutted TV sets and watched the crazy world of the big, ugly, black chuckwallas, leopard lizards and horny toads climb around the desert habitat as if we were watching TV.  I remember one time how one of the hippies came in from the "Hooch Hut" from out back with eyes at half-mast, practically glazed over and desperately wanted to see what everyone was watching on TV and adjusted the TV antennae... saying "Dude, what channel is this bro?" Thinking we were all watching a miniature version of Godzilla.

As you know, we had inmates escape all the time - NO, not the hippies- but members of our precious reptile collection....i.e. Iguana Del Diablo...our alligator (that's another story). Our cages seemed to be especially vulnerable to snakes of all sizes and color and it was unusually upsetting to the entire neighborhood whenever a rattler managed to make a jail break. though this was a frequent occurrence at our house, I'm not gonna lie - whenever a rattler got out it freaked us out also.

On this particular occasion the glazed eye'd hippies were watching another episode of mini-Godzilla - feeding the Chuckwallas some meal-worms when one of them shot out past the foul mouthed mynah bird in the entry and took a flying leap off the front porch. This time the prehistoric creature did not head across the street to the Tripp's house (I guess, Iguana Del Diablo must have told it that it was not a good place to hide), instead it slid under a car and eluded the Wolf Pack who had been running around like the Three Stooges only there were about 16 of them. "The 16 Stoodges" Wow I'd see that in a theater.


After a short while the Wolf Pack had lost interest and most had staggered on back to where they come from.  Karin and I were still playing outside and that is when we saw it!  The grouchy old lady next door was out gardening in the front yard grouched over a hedge she had been was trimming with some rusty hedge clippers that were so old I sure Noah and his kids had used them way back in the day.

And there right below her bent-over-behind was the chuckwalla. I think that old lizard mistook her butt for a big rock or something. I was afraid for a couple reasons. Chuckwallas liked to squeeze themselves in tight places between rocks....do you know what I'm trying to say? I could see that thing making a run at her moo-moo and trying to fit himself in a spot where the sun don't shine.  I really didn't have too much against 'O Enda and although I knew that it couldn't end well for her, I figured if that chuckwalla ended up where I thought it might, It certainly wouldn't end up well for the escaped felon - the poor thing.




So Karin and I hatched a rescue plan...she would distract the old lady and I would wrangle the giant ugly behemoth.

Just as we put our plan into action, Jack Cano was coming back from Ralph's liquor store with a six pack and saw the whole thing. Karin tapped Edna on the shoulder and looked up with those puppy dog innocent eyes of a 6-year-old and I flung my weaselly little body right under Edna's butt, rolled across the ground and came up with chuckwalla tightly clenching to my chest with one hand and holding its jaws shut with the other hand.  I walked away wiggling and squirming and wrestling with Godzilla scratching at my chest and Edna turned around and snarled, "What's wrong with him?"

Karin looked up at her and said in reply, "That's just Mark...everyone says he's special!" smiled walked away.  Legend has it that Jack dropped his six pack and had to make another trip after trying to describe everything he just witnessed to Karl.

Just another weird day on Harding Avenue!





Here is to you Smith Girls!

For you android users
Tom Jones: What's New Pussy Cat

"Oh no you didn't" BEWARE: THE RAGING PITBULL

This post is a continuation from the last one.

Markie D walked to his house just around the corner from his grammar school for lunch everyday. As the omega male of the Wolf Pack it was hard bumping elbows with the brood when the chaotic scramble happened every morning as the older boys scavenged for anything they could put in a lunch sack. With the fighting, the name calling and the pulling of hair, Markie decided it was best to stay under the radar and not even try to compete. By the time it came along for him to glean the kitchen for scraps there was nothing left over other than tainted milk, wilted celery, and the leftover something that had begun to grow green hair.  Opening the Tupperware lid on his ancient treasure, Mark gagged and almost threw up and then received a thump on the head by one of older guys. Other than that, the only thing edible that survived the ravages of the Wolf Pack was dry sourdough bread from the Pioneer day-old store. He wasn't about to pack a piece of dry bread, not when he could walk home and toast it!

And that's what he did. He lived on sourdough toast for lunch everyday.

But to his dismay, he discovered the terrifying newsflash that Chewbacca (a brother, who was 8 years older and like 12 feet taller) was home at that time from Santa Monica City College every Tuesday and Thursday. Chewbacca, in a moment of evil inspiration, had just invented a new form of torture that he affectionately termed a "Template." 

We left off last time, when Markie D had just woken up from his unconscious stuper after being knocked out and left on the floor in the cruel trick by his older brother. The runt of the litter, toasted his sourdough bread and happily staggered back to lunch recess with his blonde bangs swaying off his forehead (although he had plastered his hair earlier in his father's frugal concoction of sugar-water instead of hair gel).

Ironically, the poor little fella was a happy little soul - perhaps even, quite too happy for his circumstances. Though he thought of himself as special... like Joseph in the Bible... this designation "Special" may have been more in line with the way that word is used when thinking about "The Short Yellow Bus" - kind of "Special."

Markie had heard about the word love in Catechism and knew that the concept or idea of love was out there somewhere. He had never heard the "L" word  used in his family, but felt that it was out there to be discovered.  He desperately wanted to know what love was; what it felt like.. what it looked like and if a person could really experience this concept that he felt was so out of reach.

Last year, in 4th grade, when Mrs. McNellis was reading Charlotte's Web to the class (and fell asleep while reading) MARK DISCOVERED something amazing for the first time! GIRLS!

With something like 7 or 8 older brothers at home and with only two toilets in the house, you can image the dilemma. It meant there were desperate times when 4 or 5 of the boys had to pee in the toilet at the same time....if any went into the toilet, that was a miracle. Poor Markie had to squeeze in between a forest of legs, and being just about "po-po" height (compared to the guys who were 2 or more feet taller) -  he knew was a boy was. Hello, no problem with that one!

It took him this long, however, to figure that girls were different from boys... a different gender...a different species and he was suddenly intrigued as he looked across the 4th grade classroom (while the teacher had fallen asleep) and fell in love with Roberta.  Not the girls his house, but girls in the outside world were soft and cute and, well, different (maybe even nice) he imagined. He had tried his affections on Janet and hit her over the head with his book causing the little teeth in her hair barrette to draw blood. That relationship lasted about three hours when her parents got the phone call and Sister Superior and everyone started yelling at him.  

Roberta had the most beautiful, thick auburn hair and he was in love - whatever loved looked like to a 4th grader. Markie wasn't going to hit her over the head (that didn't work) yet other than that, he didn't know what to do, but to stare and daydream. Richard Stiman was a man of action....he told Roberta he liked her and Markie lost the girl of his dreams. By 5th grade Markie knew he had no chance with the girls, because there were guys who already had traces of hair on their upper lip, like Richard Arredondo. Hair on Markie's lip was about 25 years down the road. No chance with the girls meant, that Markie had no chance at discovering what this illusive thing called love - was all about. He was Mowgli, who was all alone in the jungle. 

(Enough of the back story) Whistling and staggering  his way back onto Saint Mark's School property holding  up his warm buttered sourdough toast as if it were a glorious trophy - symbolic of  enduring Chewbacca 's "Template of Brain Damage." 

This toasted bread was the envy of every 5th grader who had to chock down stale peanut and squished jelly sandwiches. His stock value suddenly increased...he was important for a minute. He liked the feeling of being liked. The boys in that corner of the schoolyard lined up and Markie granted one bite apiece. ONE BITE... Markie had not even had the chance to eat one-half of his toast yet and was reluctantly giving most of his prized possession away.

THEN CAME MICHAEL. Michael was at least a full head taller than Mark and probably twice his weight... Michael grabbed Markie's sourdough and shoved half it in his mouth to be mean and spiteful...

BAD! BAD! BAD Mistake! Michael might have outweighed Markie  D by 50-60 lbs... and had no idea that the little runt had to fight Ulrich and his Small Napoleons - like very day.  Bad choice bully Michael, this was just not your lucky day. 

Picture this. Pitbulls are cute and cuddly, quite friendly and about as unassuming as a beagle. Now image a police dog...a 135 pound German Shepherd. If that German Shepherd were to attack this 30 pound dog, your initial reaction is to feel sorry for the poor little fella. You root for the little guy - you (plural) feel sorry for the cute little thing.  

But when that little guy tightens the sinew of his muscle mass and his pupils pin-point, it's like a metamorphosis from Dr. Hyde to Mr. Jekyll takes place. And when that Pitbull sinks his teeth into the neck of that German Shepherd, suddenly you fell sorry for the poor, pathetic, self-assured German Shepherd who thought he was "All That!"

You might even be compelled to get a stick and beat the Pitbull off of the humbled-terrorist of a bully.

Do I need to say anything more - other than poor, big, self-assured, bully Michael, who though he was "All That," received more than he bargained for. 

It did take about two teachers and three kids to pull Markie off of the big bully...his ear got pinched by Sister Godzilla, as he was sent to the Principal's office to the cheers of admiring 5th graders.

Pray for Michael, but don't feel sorry for Markie...his stock value went up in school that day... and now maybe, he had a chance with the ladies and could find out what this thing called love was all about. 

Unbeknownst to him, the closest thing Markie would come touching love, to finding love and experiencing love...came every Friday with Irene. She was the cleaning lady from Watts who knew a thing or two about bullies, about prejudice, about enduring, and fully understood about glorious trophy of true love.

You may have heard that. “Sticks and stones may break your bones, but names will never hurt you!” 

Yeah, well… I think I would put it a different way, “Sticks and stones may break your bones – they will  heal, but names can hurt for a long time.” 

 
It was Tuesday and Markie would have to wait until Friday. Until then, he sang one of the songs Irene had taught him. 

Go Down Moses

Way down in Egypt Land

Tell old Pharaoh

To let my People Go

When Israel was in Egypt land

Let my people go

Oppressed so hard they could not stand

Let my people go

“Thus spoke the Lord,” bold Moses said

“If not, I’ll smite your first born dead..

Let my people go