We've really been trying to get the painting job for the C.B.'s done in between other jobs. The trouble is that there are a lot of problems with the C.B.'s apartment. Every time we stain a piece of trim it falls off. Apparently, Non-Responsible Son didn't use any nails when he built the place.

The C.B.'s live in an in-law appartment attached to Non-Responsible Son's house. The house sits way out almost to the PA line off a dirt road. It's a big spead of land: the house is very magestic looking from the road. There are several outbuildings, cars, bikes, scooters, every kind of toy imaginable for a family of mostly boys. The C.B.'s apartment is where you would expect a two car garage to be, and it has a seperate driveway.

The front yard is impressive if not well maintained. The back yard is fenced and there are two dogs: The Black One and The Brown One. They have names, but I get them mixed up. The Black One is really black and white, and The Brown One is really black and brown. They're almost the exact same size - I guess they're a "mid size" dog....having Winston around makes all other dogs look like toy poodles. They're mongrels, but they're good looking mongrels, with intellegent eyes. They're outside dogs. Mrs. C.B. says that The Brown One had been abused, and he's quicker to bark, and in general seems a little more aggressive.

They spend their days and nights in the wind swept fenced in yard, running along the fence line, barking at whatever is going on, and occassionally peeking in Mrs. C.B.'s back door . "They have a dogs life" Mrs. C.B. once said sighing. Then she added "Of course, they are dogs."

Of course Mrs. C.B. feeds them leftovers from time to time, if she has any, even though she claims to be a little nervous of The Brown One. They've always looked okay to me, in the way of outside dogs. They can get in under the deck for shelter. They have a doghouse, though it's less than ideal for two of them. There's not an ounce of fat on either one of them, but they have always had pleanty of energy and verve.

However, today when we went up they didn't come barking at the Jeep. The came out from under the deck and looked at us, sort of hollowly, like people who have the flu. We went in and started to work when The Hub noticed The Black One at the back door. "His nose is all bloody" he said.

Well, it was raw, anyway. Looked like he had been using it to dig. Moreover, that dog had lost a great deal of weight. It had that sort of waspish look around it's middle.

"You think I ought to go around and tell those people they might want to look in on this dog?" The Hub said, tightly.

"It's no good. Mrs. C.B. said they were going to Florida. She said the woman pays somebody to look after the dogs....but, it doesn't look like that's happening." I said.

"G-- dammit! I'm gonna call the dog officer!" The Hub said.

"We could." I said. "But they'd know who did it. And then you know they'd cause trouble for the C.B.'s."

"Mmmmmm" he growled, and went to start taping the bedroom.

I called Mrs. C.B. and told her about it. " I don't know what's going on." she said sadly, "I haven't heard from any of them since I left. They probably are in Florida. They pay a woman to feed them when they're gone, but The Brown One sometimes growls. Maybe she felt like it just wasn't worth it. Have they got water? I ought to call the dog officer, but they'd really start problems with me. What do you think?"

"Don't worry about it. I just wanted you to know that I'm fixing them some rice and I'm going to open up a can of salmon I found in your cabinet."

"There's chicken in the freezer. You can, you know, fix that...if you get hungry....or, you know, for them." She said quickly. I knew she was asking me to take care of the dogs and not start trouble with her son.

"Okay. Don't worry about it. Don't give it another thought. Everything will be fine."

"We might be back soon. The altitude doesn't seem to agree with Mr. C.B. He's been having problems with his blood pressure" she said. They're in the hilly part of North Carolina.

"Well, there's no reason to hurry. We're about done work up here. Those dogs'll get taken care of, don't worry, okay?"

I filled up a 3 gallon pitcher full of water and took it out into the yard. I found one dog bowl. The dogs danced around me sniffing eagerly. I filled the bowl and they both stuck their heads in drinking deeply. I saw where they had dug up some bones they had buried. That was what was going on with The Black One's nose. Dogs are resourceful creatures. Still just giving them water caused them to sit back on their haunches and regard me with a look of deep gratitude.

I spilled salmon juice all over my sweatshirt opening the can. I mixed the salmon with about a cup of rice for each dog and took it out on paper plates to them. Neither one of them growled. They just ate hungrily.

"Somebody ought to make those people go without food for a few days. See how they like it." The Hub growled.

"You're preaching to the choir" I said.

Then I had to break away to clean the bathroom for The Bathroom Lady. She was home, and complained, not rudely but just matter-of-factly, that the tile was still looking streaked. It's extremely high gloss - the kind good sales reps never recommend for floors for exactly that reason. It was pretty embarrassing, especially since I looked like hell from painting, had dog prints on me, and smelled like a fish.

"Hmm. Well, let me think on this. I see the problem. I've tried several methods to decrease streaking. I agree with you that the steamer doesn't seem to be doing the job." I said, concerned.

"You said you wanted me to tell you-" she started, apologetically.

"I absolutely do! I'm glad you did. I just really want to solve this for you, and I know from experience that these tiles are tough to clean."

I wracked my brain while scrubbing the grout in the shower.

I once saw the intuitive thought process diagramed this way: - - - / -

Almost all of my thought processes are like that. Suddenly, I knew that white vinegar would clean that floor without streaking. So asked if she had any.
"There's enough acid in it to be anti-bacterial." I said, hoping I sounded professional.

"Yes, I've heard that. I'm willing to give it a try. Do you need much of it?"

Hell if I knew. Anyway, I toted the vinegar back up with me, spilled some on the floor and went after it with a microdust cloth - one to wash and one to dry. Worked like a charm!

"Well, the good news is, I think it worked. The bad news is that your bathroom smells like Boardwalk Fries." I told my customer. She laughed. "Come see."

"Wow! Look at that! That really worked!" she said.

Whew!!

On to the post office to get the C.B.'s mail. In spite of looking like a poster child for "What Not to Wear" I did give my card to an elderly lady who came into the post office with her bills, carefully stamped them, and then wandered back out with them almost to her car before she realized she'd forgotten to stick them in the mail slot.

"Why thank you." she said, kindly, "some days I do feel I might be able to use a little help."

When I got back to the C.B.'s The Hub was watching the Hitler Channel on account of I had driven off with the rollers.

Finally, we finished up the painting. I watered the orchids. We have to go back tomorrow any way....but I'll keep going back every day until I know, for sure, that those dogs are being taken care of. And I bet I can think of something diplomatic to say to Non-Responsible Family. It might just take me a week to calm down enough to say it!