Passing the Hat for Roger

The hat made it's way from table to table in the break area, half filled ( or half empty? ) with dollar bills. It was payday and several whispered remarks echoed the sentiment, "I wish I had more but I haven't cashed my check yet, will you be doing this again next week?" I put my dollar in the hat as my thoughts drifted back to the many days Roger and I had worked together.

He enjoyed working, and his attitude was encouraging to all of those around him. Rare was the day that I didn't see him in the break area or the parking lot with his hands full of cd's, t-shirts or something to sell. The man was forever busy, and looking to make a dollar. And he was honest.

They found Roger face down in a ditch last week, with a bullet in the back of his head. The police have found the van he used to shuttle workers from Jackson County to the Pasta Plant were he had worked until he started his own shuttle company. No one heard the shot, no one in the neighborhood knew Roger. Those who live in that Housing Project are tight lipped.

He was a Family Man, Christian, Conservative and black. I didn't capitalize the word black, because I don't think Roger would have liked that. Roger was a Business Man that just happened to be born black in a white community.

There's a big hole where Roger used to stand. No one is sure how this happened ( yet ), but we all know there will be hell to pay when the truth does come out ( and it will ). It's going to be a long hot summer here. The heat is on.

It's Monday, and I've had time to think about all of this. I'll be talking to Marge, she was the last passenger Roger dropped off, and one of the last to speak with him. She will have the hat, and I'll have a few more dollars to send to his family. She may also have some news.

Junior Has a New Home

There was a knock at the door about an hour ago, and now one of my pups has left for his new home. Not far away, but not close by either.

Junior was the second of four to go, and I know the remaining two will go sooner or later. There just isn't room here for them. Room in our hearts, space in our fenced yard, but the house just isn't big enough. He'll be going to an older couple's home just outside of town, where he'll have the room and love he deserves and needs. That's all good, but I miss him already.

I'm not going to pick favorites anymore, and I'm not going to name them either. They're whelped here, weaned here, and then they go away. They don't usually go far, and we nearly always keep in touch with their new owners. That's what brought the knock to our door, a lady with one of our pups brought an old friend of hers to us because her friend's husband had lost his dog the other day ( he doesn't know that he's getting a puppy yet ). I hope he keeps the name Junior.

I'm going to find out her husband's name tomorrow ( probably Bubba, Boo, or Billy-Bob ). I have no idea why some hulking, red-neck, back-hoe driving dude would ever want a wiener dog...but it doesn't matter because I'm not doing this anymore. Two more pups, and that's it for me.