Now that Kairos has finally had all of his shots, Charlotte and I were able to take him for a walk yesterday morning. We were three blocks from the house when I found what looked like a small bag of cocaine.
Cocaine. In a little baggie. Just sitting there, next to the telephone pole between the sidewalk and road, on the only patch of grass that was covered in the yellow oxalis that Charlotte likes to pick.
Kairos found the bag first and I barely managed to get it away before it ended up the same way as a few other things he's put in his mouth--slimy, $600 vomit on the floor of the vets' office (though in this case it would probably have been a bit more expensive).
Because I forgot to bring my phone and I didn't want to just leave the baggie there for another dog--or little kid--to find, I scooped it up in a poop bag and took it to the police department.
One might think that the possibility of drugs appearing on a street in a quiet neighborhood might excite a little attention, but in this case you would be wrong. I sat in the police station for 45 minutes before anyone came to take the bag. The receptionist only wanted my name, address, phone number and where I found the bag.
When she finally appeared, the detective only wanted my name, address, drivers license number, phone number, cell phone number, where I found the bag, and then the bag itself.
Next time I'm just going to call and let them come to me. Not that I want there to be a next time, of course. But then, there's always Weeds.