Define “Theft”

Is it stealing if you take back things others took from you?

Dude and his girlfriend got into an argument out at her place. Dude called- yes, really- asking me to come get him so the cops she called wouldn’t take him to jail. Then he called back that he was staying there for the night and leaving in the morning.

In the morning he sent a polite text that he was packed up and ready to go, but thanks anyway for my help.

I texted back asking if the stuff missing from my property was in his packed car.

He didn’t answer.

When they left my house on the final eviction notice, they took almost all the furniture (except an old couch the dog puked on, gosh darn it) and quite a lot of artwork. I sent through my attorney a list of things I wanted back “or else” there would be a criminal prosecution.

Then that phone call came, and suddenly I had her address. Well……

A friend and I drove out there. Yep, half my worldly goods were sitting on her front porch. So we did what came natural. I have back all but two of my important artwork pieces, the big rocking chair that Jack’s friends gave him, our expanding ladder (and essential piece of homesteading equipment), and assorted other goods that make me happy.

The one thing we did not see was the large riding mower, known as a Zero Turn. The one thing girlfriend reported stolen was the Zero Turn. My lawyer called to ask me if I had reclaimed it. Said they were “tracks in the snow around where it was kept.” Which cracked us up because girlfriend’s first attempt to reclaim my stuff from it being taken away from her was to say she knew we had been there because there were footprints in the snow.

Yes, dear. Okay. So anyway, of all the things we took, they reported something that we didn’t take (that wasn’t there in the first place) as stolen. So now my lawyer says we won’t prosecute for theft if they return the remaining two sentimental paintings and produce a police report saying they reported the zero turn stolen.

I asked his logic for this and he said, “Because lying to the police is in itself a felony. Leverage.”

Ah. My lawyer is very smart. So is my friend who went with me to reclaim stuff. We successfully tied that very long ladder to a not-that-long car and as we drove away with everything (confidently heading in the wrong direction for five miles before turning around) she said, “Two academic women can still manage a ladder. Score one for the girls.”

Yep.

We technically have court tomorrow, so I’ll let you know if anything happens because somebody stole something, and who the court decides stole from whom.

Meanwhile, I am rehanging some artwork.

Trixie Weighs In – all 13 pounds of her

Right, people, listen up. Some of you may not know me. My name is Trixie and I’m in charge around here.

I am the emotional support dog attached to Wendy Welch. By which I mean, Wendy is my emotional support human. I have a few… neuroses, shall we say. Wendy helps me with my anxiety.

People ask, was I a rescue, because I am so anxious. Those people are clearly not well-informed on current events. If you’re not anxious, you’re not paying attention.

I work with Wendy at some food bank stuff. Once a week she goes to this place where people line up outside like an hour beforehand. And there’s a big guy with a big husky. The guy is really nice to me, but the husky has said some rude things I don’t appreciate. Mom puts my leash under a table leg and everybody talks nice to me. But it’s still a bit taxing on my nerves. So many people wanting to pet me, saying how cute I am. A dog likes to be taken seriously. Like the big husky barking her fool head off across the parking lot. (She has to wait over there because she doesn’t volunteer with the warehouse, see.) Nobody ever calls HER cute….

I can live with cute, though, when it comes to the other place with the food. Wendy works with a bunch of med students once a month. They cook meals for people in a rent-controlled housing facility. Everybody at the facility loves me. Naturally. When they call me cute, they slip me scraps of the chicken gumbo or whatever the med students are cooking. And when the students play ball with the kids, I get to play too. It’s fun to run around at the housing complex. It is a quarter mile to walk around the whole sidewalk circling the place, and I have run this MANY times with a group of kids. Once a bunch of people chased me because I slipped my harness. Good times.

So, it’s not all bad having an emotional support human. I’ll tell you more secrets later. For now, stay warm out there. I have a winter coat attached to me, but you people have to assemble yourselves to go out. That thing with your feet, weird. But do what you need to do. It’s all good.