Houston delenda est

Dear Lynne and Elaine,

Although you don’t know each other, you are kindred souls and only people like you can understand that I must write down what I went through yesterday, trying to protest an injustice. But let me preface it by referring first to Cato the Elder, a Roman statesman, who instead of the Latin version of hello used “Carthago delenda est.” As of yesterday I may adopt his salutation with a slight change: “Houston delenda est,” i.e., Houston must be destroyed. You soon will understand why.

My trek to City Hall in the downtown warren was prompted by the continued need to protest the mismanagement of the Bureau of Animal Regulation and Care (read Control). For background please refer to my so-called blog. The latest outrage (see my so-called blog for background) puts a specific face, Keiko’s, to the hundreds of thousands of anonymous dogs and cats who have met similar fates at BARC. Some of us decided to address Mayor Parker (who straddles the fence on animal issues) and the City Council yesterday at 2:00 PM, demanding that homeless animals be treated responsibly, using Keiko’s death as our cause célèbre. Taxpayers’ money is being squandered in staff, including the Bureau chief (no experience with animals, just an administrative position in the “fitness industry”) and the head veterinarian (fined for malpractice in Virginia a few years ago). BARC is the only job I know of where lack of experience is a qualification.

Off I went to City Hall. Reaching Main Street I braced myself mentally for the maze of one-way streets, when a motorcycle policeman waved me to turn into a parking lot. Being a COPS fan I complied quickly. He was a big ole boy in black uniform and reflecting glasses. Allegedly, I had changed lanes illegally. As he wrote the ticket he pronounced my last name (correctly!) and asked for its origin.

“Spain.”
“Oh! So you are Hispanic … I had you down as Caucasian.”
“I am Caucasian.”
“Well, you see, I have only these options [he pointed at the form], and if your name is Spanish….”
“Before there were Hispanics, there were Spaniards, and we in Spain are Caucasian, like most Europeans. Since when does a traffic ticket require racial profiling?” I asked trying to sound curious, not confrontational.
“It isn’t! It’s only because I can tell what car you drive from two blocks away, but I can’t see who you are.” Try to follow the logic of this if you can... But why enter an argument you can’t win.
“I’m Caucasian; you write down what you must.”

After being reinstated to my race, he gave me only a warning.

Construction, no parking, one-way streets … but I arrived only minutes after 2 PM to the Council Chamber. Standing room only. Could they all be Keiko supporters I foolishly hoped … until I noticed that the Mayor, a couple of councilors, two cameramen, and I were the only “Caucasians;” in fact, better than 50% of the public wore purple t-shirts of a union of house cleaning workers who spoke no English and were taking up the seats of those who did. Trying to figure out what had happened to my people I stayed long enough to observe that City Councilors now function as Small Claims courts:

“My neighbors are harassing my son and other neighbors.”
“Un policia talk to me sin respeto.”
“The garbage collectors drop stuff out of the containers.”
“The children of my church have nowhere to play since the property next door was sold.”
“I no can … it is he …bueno…God bless…”

Even less relevant and coherent where other three-minute dissertations. (With Councilors mired in petty qualms, when can they run the city, its facilities, and the services they are supposed to provide with our money?) After 30 minutes it was clear that plans had changed concerning the BARC hearing and I left the chamber. Heading for the elevator I noticed two women sitting on a bench, a large color photo of Keiko – the bully mix with the bloody eyes and the tragic past that landed her in BARC – between them. I introduced myself and one turned out to be Dr. Cooper, who offered to take the dog to her high-tech clinic, get specialists to see her, and in other words, take the burden off of BARC. She was refused, as were many others, and the dog died … inevitably.

So the Keiko contingent (which had either left en masse or was very small) were told that the issue of animal control that affects every citizen whether they know it or not, was to be trimmed to one minute (in favor of illegal immigrants, already uniformed and unionized, and assorted nuts), and postponed to nearly the time to adjourn. In view of this, they decided to reschedule to next week. Perhaps, I suggested, the extra time would allow us to stage yet another street demonstration denouncing BARC’s atrocious record parading posters of Keiko, the latest victim of their criminal incompetence.

Houston delenda est, indeed. To be continued.