Doggie Dog Homeless World Report

A fellow homeless friend of mine is at the end of his rope — has given up on life.  I try to cheer him up, wagging my tail and smiling at him, which is a temporary fix, but his frustration, defeatism, hurt and disappointment run deep.

My friend said he has a sense of ennui, which means, for those of you in Doylestown, “a feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest; boredom.”  Indeed, he’s had a belly full.

He quotes T.S. Elliot:

“I should have been a pair of ragged claws

scuttling across the floors of silent seas”

My friend has also been talking about catching a train — doesn’t matter if it’s passenger or freight — between stops, and he doesn’t want to wait for the train to stop, if you get my drift.

The proverbial straw came after he was once again turned down for an apartment.  Although his credit score is low, he lived in a house he owned for almost 24 years.  After he lost his job, he didn’t let it go into foreclosure but sold it.  It was just for the past year or so that he became destitute; for many years before that he was in the black.

My friend explained all this to the manager at Levittown Trace, the last place to turn him away.  His words were wasted, as she was just a conduit who passed basic information to some A-hole at the Levittown Trace Corporate Office, and being narrow minded, just looked at numbers, one factor.

This kind of thinking seems to be an epidemic in Bucks County, PA.  The elites in Doylestown, Et al.,  just look at the definition of homelessness —  Merriam‑Webster: having no home or permanent place of residence” and form their jaundiced view regarding the homeless.  There are people who don’t have a home, so therefore, because humans live in homes and the homeless are out in the wilds, they are animals, and must be treated as such.

As is the case with my other homeless, human friends, I am at a loss at how to help them better deal with their situation.  Most of them smoke like chimneys, wasting money and ruining their health.  There’s one homeless person who is being treated for lung cancer, yet continues to smoke, despite admonishments from a friend, the doctor who is treating her cancer, and her doctor’s assistant.

The homeless don’t have many outlets, and life is generally boring for them.  As is the case some people in the general population, smoking has become  a religion.  Many are members of the Church of the Sister Nicotine and The Holy Smokes.  Instead of killing them quickly, as was the case with the Kool-Aid drinkers in Jonestown, Guyana,

the cancer sticks are killing them softly.

I thought it was interesting reading on the above link that the Kool-Aid survivor was a homeless woman who was sitting in her van when she caught a ride to La-La Land, from a man who promised hope and change.

Another escape for the homeless is booze.  I don’t understand why people imbibe, only to end up fighting one another, getting in trouble with the man, and becoming alienated from one another.

I, Homeless Dog, am in the same situation as my human homeless friends.  I don’t smoke, drink booze, bark at people or bite them.  If I’m hungry, hot, cold, thirsty, or just want to get out and stretch my legs, I let someone know.  Unlike the Bucks County establishment, I accept everybody, no matter who they are or what baggage they are carrying.

One tip I can give the homeless is to have a raison d’être.

For those of you in Doylestown, this word means “reason for being.”

My raison d’être is to try to cheer people up, like a therapy dog (who needs Penndel Mental Health Center?)  and to serve as a watchdog.

Homeless brothers and sisters, what is your raison d’être?

Being homeless is ruff, but one has to keep her tail wagging, mouth smiling, and, as Argent sang, hold your head up.

And if it’s bad
Don’t let it get you down, you can take it
And if it hurts
Don’t let them see you cry, you can take it

Hold your head up, hold your head up
Hold your head up, hold your head high

And if they stare
Just let them burn their eyes on you moving
And if they shout
Don’t let them change a thing what you’re doing

Hold your head up, hold your head up
Hold your head up, hold your head high  

Gimmee Shelter for the Homeless was created to give the homeless a chance to hold their head high by giving them a hand in developing their own homes, modeled on The Homestead Act of 1862.

It will be a tougher sell to Doylestown Democrats and RINOs than to honest Abe, but, despite them burning their eyes on us moving and barking at us, we have to not change a thing we’re doing (except for minor adjustments).