“Look at those pigeons, Dad.”

“Oh, yes sir, they’re tumblers. You know I used to raise pigeons when I was a kid, right, Andy?”


“Did I tell you about the time the garbage man stole my pigeons?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I came home from school one day and all my pigeons were gone. I couldn’t believe it! And then I remembered one day when I was out flying them, the garbage man was driving by and oh man, he wanted my pigeons. He kept asking me if he could buy them and finally, I just had to be say ‘Take a hike, buddy!'”

“The garbage man stole your pigeons?”

“Well, I didn’t have proof, so I bought some more pigeons and put them out front to see if he would take the new pigeons. Well, sure enough, one day in the summer, he stopped his garbage truck, got out, grabbed the crate of pigeons and put them in his truck.”

“Really? Did you call the police?”

“Oh man, I was so mad! If you ever had pigeons you would know what I mean! No, I didn’t call the police. I got in my car and cut him off. And I got out of my car, opened the passenger door, took my pigeons out, grabbed him and beat the crap out of him. Now, Andy, it’s not good to beat people up but I was just so doggone mad! And I said ‘Keep your damn hands off my pigeons!’ And man, he never touched my pigeons again!”

“You really beat him up?”

“You bet! This was back before you would get arrested for beating someone up who stole your property. When I was a kid, if someone hurt your pets, you had the right to do whatever you wanted with them. Kind of like the time I had that real mean dog, Casey, and my neighbor chopped his head off. So, I shot his dog with a bow and arrow. Back then, there was just no need to get the police involved in everything. People handled things themselves.

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