Meeting Rattler

Christmas eve, out walking my pups, with camera in hand hunting for pics at sunset, an ominous layer of thick white clouds on the horizon looked promising. At this inopportune moment, a Hispanic guy in a turquoise jacket approached us. Dogs make for great openers. He was polite enough to ask for my permission to pet my pups. They loved the attention, of course. The guy gushed how dogs know people. We talked a bit. I noticed an elaborate tattoo covering his throat. They call him Rattler, likening him to a rattlesnake he confided. Said he is 44 years old, getting up there. Girlfriend threw him out, so he was prowling the streets, on Christmas eve. I inquired about his family. He lost his Dad early and his Mom a bit later to Leukemia. I suggested he go back to his girlfriend and apologize. Never. He would never ever submit.

Incredulous sounding, he kept repeating that his look-alike brother was the one that just got killed right near the plaza. Said his brother got shot just like a dog. I had read the recent headlines. Rattler kept on ranting about street-justice. If cops will not do it, he will. I suggested a 12-step meeting. Yep, he knew about them, had to attend them by order. He then declared his love for Jesus but continued to lament the loss of his brother. In parting, I begged him to talk to his higher power. He had turned already to accost another female pedestrian.  I returned home with pictures only in my mind, none in my camera.