Diary of Stuff (Volume I)
2001-12-15 03:48:03 (UTC)

An Old Acquaintance

An old friend of mine called today. He asked, "So! Are
you ready?! Huh!? Are you ready?!"

I said, "What?" Pause. Oh yeah, I remembered he called
the day before. "Well..."

He wanted to know if I had bought tickets to see the first
showing of "Fellowship of the Rings", (and also if I had
seen the previews of where Gandalf confronts the Balrog).

"Well...," I said.

I forget what the exact exchange was after that. I asked
how much, he told me. I told him I was broke, that I
needed hours. He asked me if I wanted to become a security
guard. I said, "Sure!" He said, "You wanna call my boss?
I'd hire you if I could, but I can't..." (He's in a
supervisory position.) I think I decided that I was going
to go ahead and call his boss Monday (after getting off of
work since I work that day's morning).

He told me to come over some time and see "Bob". Oh yeah,
I recollected again, his pet rottweiler.

"He's a lot like Baron, but he has his personality

Baron, his previous rottweiler. My old friend loved all of
his pets, but Baron was his pride and joy, his first

He was working at a community college not more than a mile
from where I had lived at that time. It was New Years day,
around 6:30am. He knew that I'd be home, because he knew
that I had no plans that night before.

"Can you go to my house and check up on Baron?" he
pleaded. "I get off in half an hour, but I just want to
make sure that everything's all right..." There was panic
in his voice, and he was trying to keep hysteria from
taking over. I said suuurrrre, what are friends for? "He
may have been spooked by the firecrackers from last
night...I tied him to the gate, but he may have gotten
loose..." Knowing Baron, I was almost certain that he
did. I knew he got loose, and I knew that there was a
possibility of some very ill news.

I drove over to my friend's house, and didn't see or find
Baron anywhere. I drove around the neighborhood on the off
chance that I would be able to find him, and hopefully
deliver some good news back, but I didn't. I drove to
where he was working and told him the bad news.

"Thanks," he said. Not for the news obviously, but that I
had done him a favor.

He later found Baron on some cold table in some government
owned establishment (I can't remember where). He had been
hit by a truck, and the driver thought that they had hit a