This is Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle reporting to you from this Louisiana place. You know, sometimes my job is overwhelming. Sometimes my job is hard. Sometimes, my job requires much thinking, planning and delegation to the Deputy. Sometimes, he is no help. Actually, always. He is always no help.
I decided yesterday that I was sick and tired, and tired and sick from looking for that shoe that Girl Person lost in the Florida place. I pretty much figured, and wrote in my report that the shoe was ultimately and probably stolen first of all by a raccoon who had a hankering for stinky hiking shoes. However, he was hired by the camper person with the white pants and white trailer and white car with swept leaves who knew he was a shoe thief in order to make us mad since he didn’t like dogs. That is what my preliminary report stated. I held off on releasing my synopsis until this Louisiana place because if it turned up, I didn’t want to be wrong. I am never wrong. So I gave it one last shot yesterday before I closed the book on it in Louisiana. I was tired of reading this book in my mind.
Wednesdays are usually the day we visit with each rescue we go to in each state. So we had a big turnout from our visit with the Magnolia Chapter Of The Humane Society of Louisiana. They brought some dogs and many, many people. Each one was a suspect in my eyes. Did they know where Girl Person’s shoe was? Seems as though they had a lot of beads on that were purple. The same color as Girl Person’s stolen shoe. Did they like purple? So much so that they conspired with the Florida place criminals before we got here and had a handoff in the Georgia place, then Mississippi place and then..gasp, this Louisiana place? It was all making sense to me all of a sudden. I started looking at everyone’s shoes very closely. Did they all match?
I tried to get the Deputy’s attention, because there were too many shoes to examine, but he was too busy being tricked by the suspects. They were trying to play with him, with all their beads on and diverting his attention. They were pawtying it up. This Louisiana place is obsessed with having a good time, but when you are all bizzzneeessss, it is quite irritating.
My Sheriff brain was now working overtime. How did this all slip by me? How had all of these states tricked me? I am so done with looking at Girl Person’s water shoes that she tries to pass off as hiking shoes because she has no time to go buy some, and Boy Person brought them home from the drugstore which apparently sells shoes and that in itself is arrest warranting. Why would he buy her water shoes? Sometimes, she goes in the water on purpose to pretend they somehow serve a purpose. I am sorry to say this out loud. But sometimes, she acts like a fool.
Anyway, I have not went off track, because I never do that, but I will get back to my point. After looking at all the shoes, the beads, the suspects on our rescue visit, something happened. And the criminal of all criminals in Louisiana showed up.
The rescue volunteers stopped to show us this criminal in the water.
Oh yes, I saw the signs everywhere. “Don’t feed the gators”. That is actually when I realized that my report was going to be concluded.
These rescue partiers knew it. Everyone knew it. Gators cannot be fed in Louisiana, so they must find their food elsewhere, even if that means hiring a raccoon in the Florida place to steal a shoe, deliver it to a clean camper, make a handoff to the gopher turtles in Georgia who deliver it to the people in Mississippi trying to forget that their state’s name is annoying, and then make a final delivery to the gators in Louisiana. This happens every day my friends. It is mind boggling I know, but these criminals, the gators have a huge crime ring going on. And they thought no one could ever figure it out. But I tell you what. I am a Sheriff first. And a catahoula rescue mutt second. Catahoula you say? The state dog of Louisiana you say?
These alligator criminals had no idea that a Sheriff who was the state dog of Louisiana would be coming here. Oh, but I did. And I am shocked at the amount of effort it took to eat Girl Person’s shoe. It must have been a pretty good shoe, but I am a pretty good catahoula Sheriff. Louisiana? I must say this to you. As I do not know which gator ate my shoe, and since all you partiers tried to distract us with purple beads, and since you distracted my Deputy…this is long and coming. You. Are. Arrested.
What can get you a lighter sentence? I think that is pretty obvious. As obvious as Digby’s bad breath and as obvious as a pair of unattractive water shoes on an uncoordinated Girl Person. I don’t want the shoe back, I realize that is now gone in a gator’s stomach. But come on. She wears a size 8.
-Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle
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One thought on “Don’t Feed The Gators. Seriously.”
Oh, Sheriff Brickle, I have never been more proud of you!!! Such determination!!! At first I would have thought you suffer from conspiracy theories, as I’ve been know to do, but no!!! You completed came to all of the right conclusions, wrapped all of the pieces together and closed the book!!!! You’re right, there’s some kind of Gator Mafia going on, and the purple beads were a distraction, no doubt!!! You can’t blame The Deputy, though, he was smitten with Tripp!!! Those states better recognize the “Catahoula” in front of your Sheriff!!!! YOU AIN’T NO JOKE!!!! xoxoxoxox <3