More years ago than I care to admit, I used to read gas and electric meters for a living. It wasn’t much fun, hot in the summer, cold in the winter and generally at the mercy of the weather gods. It was a job, though. We meter readers would meet in the morning and get our "books" or read cards and instructions for our routes. Then we’d head on out and read meters. Every book included the instructions for the route. With these cards, housed in a plastic sleeve, meter readers communicated with one another. You’d find notes on where meters were - people were very good at hiding them in weird places. They’d warn of hazards, tell of shortcuts, let you know you had a key and permission to use it. Most of these entries were in a sort of code, a shorthand if you will, to save space. (The practice of using keys ended not long after I moved on from that job, by the way. It got to be too dangerous).
One of the instructions every meter reader looked for when starting a route for the first time was to look for the dreaded code "BD". That code meant BAD DOG, and if it was there, you knew it meant the dog really was bad. The average mean pooch was taken in stride. You learned how to handle dogs in most situations, even if the handling was to get the hell away from it! But the letters BD were special. It meant you’d better damn well be on your toes, because if you let down your guard for an instant you would be in trouble.
One day I was given a brand new route I had never seen before. It was in a suburban area. Usually those routes were fairly easy with modern houses and clean basements. They were walking routes rather than driving routes, too. So I scanned the instructions and did not see the BD code, so off I went. As I remember it, it was one of those really nice days which seemed to come so rarely. Mild temperature, sunny, just enough breeze to make sure you didn’t overheat and all in all one of the good days to have that particular job. Most of the day went really well and I was getting a high percentage of reads.
I came to a house, a nicely kept two-story home with a large, screened in porch. As I walked up the path, I spotted something on the instructions I had not seen before; the letters ‘BC’. Most ominously, there were three exclamation points after the letters. I had never seen the letters before and had no idea what they meant. But the exclamation points usually meant "this is really serious". Which, in and of itself, made me a bit nervous. I wasn’t sure if the previous meter reader had been sloppy and written down a C rather than a D. So I took my flashlight out of my back pocket and gripped it tightly. This was almost an unwritten law for handling a BD - you had to have the flashlight. It was actually a good defense - sometimes just swinging it at an attacking dog while yelling "stop" was enough to make the beast back down. Other times you actually had to hit them to get their attention. (This was also before pit bulls became so common).
So I went up to the screened porch and loudly proclaimed "GAS MAN!" at the top of my voice. Whereupon something big streaked from the shadows inside the screened porch and hit the screen door at about chest height. It STUCK there on the door hissing and snarling.
It was a cat. About fifteen pounds of extremely pissed-off cat hanging from the screen and trying it’s best to get at me. I noticed there was a heavier mesh screen behind the normal fly screen or this thing would have been on me. I just stared at this furry fury having no idea what to do. So at least I knew now that BC stood for BAD CAT. And that the exclamation points were there for a reason.
But then there came a voice from inside the house, "Hold on, let me get the cat inside", the woman of the house said. I was quite happy to let her. She pried the cat off the door and carried it inside, locking it in somewhere. That cat did not go willingly, either. I noticed some nasty scratches on the woman’s arms after she let me in.
"That cat’s kind of mean, isn’t it?", I asked.
"No, she’s very lovable, she just has a thing for uniforms. She scratched the UPS man pretty badly last week." Gee, I was so glad to hear that.
I read my meter and left, asking myself "Why do people keep pets like that?"
So what brought all that to mind was this little gem:
Animal Control in Fairfield, Connecticut have issued a restraining order on a cat. It seems Lewis the cat, who apparently resembles Felix the cat has been waylaying unsuspecting pedestrians and causing some bodily harm. His owners have been ordered to keep him under house arrest. I strongly recommend installing heavy screen to backup the fly screen, folks.
Insanity, Left Wing, Yale Follies | Gaius Wednesday, 29 March , 2006 | 
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