Link of the Day: Patrick's entry from July 5. It is a beautifully written piece entitled "Weightless," in which he reflects on the feeling of weightlessness while swimming and contemplates shedding some of the excess "weight" of his life.

Weather: Another hot and humid day. I've lost count of how many we've had. As I've written before, the heat and humidity don't bother me too much, but I am concerned about possible power outages. I've heard some alarming reports about the increased demand on the East Coast power grid over the past four or five days. The university actually closed all its non-essential buildings and sent most employees home at 11:30 this morning, something that never happened during the eight years I worked there.

First Shot Fired

Just this weekend, my sister Susannah asked me whether I'd ever had a response to my letter to the city council in support of a proposed ordinance to limit the number of pets residents could own. I told her that I hadn't heard anything.

At 10:30 this morning, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it! I'll get it!" shouted the twins, who flung open the door to reveal a man with a clipboard.

He introduced himself, said he was from the city's department of health and human services, and announced that he was here to investigate my complaint about a dog problem. I hesitated because I hadn't contacted the health department. A second later, I realized one of the city councilmen must have forwarded my letter to them.

"You did write a letter, didn't you?" he asked.

"Uhh...yeah. Come on in."

He sat on the couch and asked questions about Lorraine's dogs. It turns out he was already quite familiar with Animal Allies, the rescue organization that Lorraine is involved in.

"We shut down one lady who was involved with that group. We had to take her to court, but we won and the judge ordered her to get rid of most of the dogs."

He asked how many animals Lorraine has. I answered that we have no idea how many cats she has since she keeps them in her basement. I also said that the number of her dogs varies but that I have counted as many as fourteen at a time in her small yard.

"She doesn't take them all out at the same time anymore, however. She takes them out in shifts, so it is hard to estimate just how many she has."

He nodded. "That's what that other lady used to do."

I took him into the basement so he could smell for himself the cat odor that penetrates the wall from Lorraine's cellar. Then we went out back where he immediately noticed the stink of dog urine. Lorraine's back yard is completely paved over, and the urine soaks into the cement, which then radiates a nauseating stench.

"If you think this is bad, you should smell the inside of her house," I said.

"Oh, I'll get in there," he answered.

He also saw how easily a dog could leap from Lorraine's back porch into our porch, which happens at least once a month. I'd told him that this was another concern of ours since one of her dogs, a pit bull, has viciously attacked some of her other dogs on at least four occasions.

He thanked me for my time and told me he'll be in touch. "You'll probably be seeing a lot of me while this matter is under investigation."

Before he left, he stuck a note on Lorraine's door informing her that his department was investigating a complaint and requesting her to call him. He said she wouldn't be told the source of the complaint, but I'm sure she'll realize that it was either us or her neighbor on the other side, Vickie, who is also terribly unhappy about Lorraine's animal-saving mission.

Well, if she finds out it was us, we can honestly say that we did not call the department of health, but that the letter we wrote to city council was forward to them. Heck, she can even read the letter if she wants. It doesn't say anything we haven't already expressed to her.

Three months ago, Lorraine claimed she was going to get rid of all but a few of the dogs, but she still has as many as ever. She is out of control on this crusade of hers, and if she won't listen to her friends and family, then I guess she has to be forced to give these animals up.

This could turn out to be a very interesting month around here.

My Left Foot

Last night Tab was getting out of bed and somehow knocked against my foot on his way out. "Crack!" went my left little toe.

"Ouch!" I screamed.

I'm not sure if he actually broke it. Both Tab and I heard a distinct cracking sound, like a twig being snapped in two. It hurt dreadfully at the time and it still hurts a little today, though I can walk on it. I guess I'll just ride it out. Even if it is broken, I don't know if there is any point in going to the doctor. I suspect she'd only tell me there is nothing that can be done for a broken little toe.

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