Baldwin Meets the Law

Baldwin scurried under the front porch steps when the dogcatcher’s black van pulled into the driveway.  He was rather curious about why the dogcatcher should come visit his house, since not a single dog lived there.

A skinny man wearing a red cap with the initials ACC stepped out from behind the steering wheel and spit a long brown stream of tobacco juice onto the ground just barely missing the newly planted marigolds that lined the walkway.  He wiped his chin on his sleeve as he made his way up the steps to the front door and rang the doorbell . . . bbrringgg.

After only a few seconds, the door opened.  “Yes, may I help you?” said the human mother.  Baldwin stayed silent, for he wanted to hear every word that transpired.  “Yes, Ma’am,” said the skinny man.  His speech was a bit unclear, since it was difficult to talk with that large wad of tobacco bulging in his left cheek.  “My name is Mr. Rorre.  I’m from Animal Control Center.  Yesterday, we got some complaints about your cat, Baldwin. 

“Neighbors talk about him roaming the neighborhood and looking in their windows.  Even Mrs. Bees, the minister around the corner, complained that he picked a fight with her ol’ cat, Thelma.  I’m here to tell ya that we’ve captured that little fella, and now, he’s serving time at the pound.” 

 

Baldwin had heard enough; he felt insulted and knew exactly what to do.  He meowed very loudly as he came out of hiding, “What?  Me? Fighting with old Thelma?  What an absurdity!  And I won’t even comment about roaming!”  He then ran swiftly past the man into the safety of his house.  Mr. Rorre was so surprised, that he swallowed a bit of his tobacco.  He coughed, sputtered and gagged while turning a shade of green. 

“I best be going, Ma’am,” Mr. Rorre exclaimed quickly after he regained his voice.  “I believe what we’ve got here is a case of mistaken identity; please accept my forgiveness.  I’ll tell the Reverend Bees that the suspect at the Animal Control Center ain’t Baldwin, cause he ain’t no bully after all.” 

The human mother began to laugh, “Why thank you, Mr. Rorre.  You know, Baldwin hasn’t the time to fight, since he is much too preoccupied with sleeping, eating and bird watching.”  Baldwin sighed with relief as he heard the black van pull out of his driveway.  He nestled down into his pillow for a nap.  “Bless my dear mother; she knows me so well.”  

Baldwin visits Bishop, Georgia

Baldwin was sitting on a bench in Bishop, Georgia when suddenly, five large trucks, hauling their loads, zoomed past him loudly, rushing through the quaint, little town without seeing.  Frightened from the unexpected noise, Baldwin dashed into a nearby pottery studio, where a potter was busy shaping dark clay into a bowl. 

Baldwin watched unseen.  He must suggest to his human mother to purchase a new bowl from which he might eat his cat food.  He was certain that if his meals were served in a one-of-a-kind ceramic dish, glazed in his favorite blue, he would not complain if dinner were late.  “Well,” he meowed in a whispered voice, “I might complain just a little.”  He licked his whiskers and quietly went outside leaving behind the sound of the turning pottery wheel. 

Baldwin ran toward the folk-art shop where he was greeted in the yard by a rooster standing tall and bold.  His red comb crowned his head as he proudly displayed his brilliantly colored feathers of blue and red.

Baldwin quickly introduced himself, and paid the rooster such a nice complement, that he was certain he had gained a friend.  Baldwin was soon disappointed though, for the rooster answered not a word.  The large bird did not even blink an eye as he silently stood guard over the array of art on display.