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BOXERS OR BRIEFS? NEITHER! Between gulps of water, Riley panted and gasped for air. Exhausted from his workout, his legs shaking and tongue hanging out, he bravely pushed his already lean body to the treadmill for a quick ten miles before hitting the sauna. At 70 pounds, he knew he had no time to waste if he was going to slim down before it was too late. The owners of the house looked on sadly, but understood it was his only hope. Eating only once every other day, Riley’s ribs were visible through his chest as he trod on the treadmill. Their hopes of remaining a family were dimming with each passing day, and it seemed their foe was too strong, too determined and too powerful. In short, they were losing a battle even the bravest of men couldn’t win. They decided that if worse came to worse and Riley couldn’t drop to 40 pounds, they would shave his body, dress him in baggy, low-hanging jeans and a backwards baseball cap. Scooting down the street on his new skateboard, he would hopefully blend in with the neighborhood kids. As long as his tail didn’t pop out, that is. See, Riley is a 70-pound Boxer in a community where “woof” truly is a four letter word. The letter of the law said 40 pounds, so no matter how long or how far he ran, they all knew there was no escaping the wrath of the long arm of The Homeowners Association Tactical Enforcement Brigade. You can run, Riley. But you cannot hide. The town shall remain nameless. It’s irrelevant since there are many communities that prefer a two-leg limit for their residents. And if these brigades succeed in their mission, the day will come when the site of our furry friends frolicking in the yard will be as rare as a Rosie O’Donnell sighting at a salad bar. These tactical enforcement brigades are special, highly trained squadrons with a fanatical dedication to their cause; saving homeowners from the havoc-wreaking, peace-hating, blood-lusting, property value-killing pooches from hell. Devil dogs, if you will. Training side-by-side with local K-9 police dogs, these elite homeowners association soldiers learn to think like the dogs that will soon become their prey -- the Over 40 (lb) Club. Drinking from the same water bowls and eating the same kibble and biscuits as the K-9’s, they hope to absorb the very essence of the dogs themselves. To truly understand and defeat your enemy, you must, to a certain extent, become him. Riley can consider himself lucky though. Another nearby Florida community bans dogs altogether. Pappah, a four-pound Chihuahua, almost got his 85 year-old woman owner evicted from the community for breaking the no-dog commandment. (The ensuing struggle will go down in the annals of homeowners association history, and is slated for a 2004 made-for-TV movie.) In this case, the tactical enforcement brigade pulled out all the stops and resorted to ruthless intimidation tactics to shake the old woman’s resolve and send them both off with their tails between their legs. The first blow was struck by removing the pom-pom (under cover of darkness) from the antenna of her white Ford Crown Victoria so she couldn’t find her car in the mall parking lot. She stood her ground. Undeterred, they upped the ante through nightly “Depends” burnings on her front yard. She toasted marshmallows in the flames, cackling defiantly as she and Pappah feasted on the smoldering treats. The fight raged on for weeks, culminating in a horrific battle that caused the enforcement brigade to raise the white flag of surrender when the woman and her dog launched Molotov cocktails into the community center lobby from the back of her motorized “Scoot-About.” With the body count rising and their ranks depleted, the brigade allowed Pappah to stay. Sweet victory. Every dog has his day. OK, maybe I embellished a tad (it was hot dogs, not marshmallows) but you get the gist. Besides, dogs living in such communities may enjoy a little reprieve due to an emerging problem that is forcing the already overworked enforcement brigades to shift their focus to a much more serious issue. One that, if not nipped in the bud, will surely threaten the safety and security of Americans as it spreads, cancer-like, to communities across the country. It has tested the mettle of these brave soldiers and forced them to take a hard look at themselves and find out what they’re truly made of. I’m talking about…. CLOTHESLINES! Oh….the horror. Imagine the humiliation you’d feel when word leaked out that you live in a community where people actually (say it isn’t so) HANG THEIR LAUNDRY OUT TO DRY!!! AUGHHH!!! You can see your property value drop with each sock and BVD your diabolical neighbors hang on clotheslines visible from the street, in clear defiance of association rules. So, as you can see, the tactical enforcement brigades have their work cut out for them. The struggle continues as they battle the never-ending forces of evil, as the Rileys and Pappahs of the world look on from the safety of their living room windows at the war being fought in the streets. Dogs scatter and laundry is set ablaze as the sun sets on another day, while the sound of the battle cry swells up from the trenches: “Boxers or briefs? Neither!”
Jerry Conroy is a Florida-based humor writer. His humor pieces have appeared in newspapers across the country, as well as leading web sites.
Jerry can be reached at:
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