Q. What happens if you’re living in Ottawa, Canada, and you’re thin, and your place is a mess, and you ask the Ottawa Police Service if you’re legally required to eat?
A. Well, I can’t speak for everyone, of course, but for me, it went something like this: first, a couple of officers showed up while I was still on the phone, leaving only when I made noises to the person on the other end of the line about how I was about to be abducted, and then, around a week later, a public health nurse (and her sidekick) who’d been visiting me arrived at my door, announcing the imminent arrival of what turned out to be a crowd of people including a psychiatrist and a plain-clothed police officer.
Said officer proceeded to ask me a lot of meaningless questions about The Case(s) of the Stolen Cats, before accepting my invitation to talk alone inside (and once there, taking the opportunity to advise me to get my remaining cats registered, and telling me he knew nothing at all about the registered cat I had also reported as stolen, and had not yet been assigned an officer), and then going back outside, and asking me to come out and point out the houses of the neighbours involved.
Well, that, as it turns out, was merely another of the lies he told me, being nothing more than a prelude to the announcement, in front of the crowd of assembled Nazis, er, do-gooders, that in the interests of protecting me (and others!) from myself (when I’d left my apartment in the last four weeks only to buy groceries), he would have to put handcuffs on me, and force me into the back of his car (which turned out to be an undercover police cruiser), and take me to the hospital for a seventy-two hour observation/incarceration period.
After which period of petty tyranny, I was released without the shirt that had been on my back when I was forced in (fortunately I’d been wearing a jacket and parka, since I was left with a long walk home in a snowfall)… the shirt I’d been working in for the last little while… too dirty to wash, apparently… *shrug*
And, as a result of my small absence, I return to find (in addition to no running water in my apartment, and my stolen cats no closer to being returned) worldwide bedlam. Good job, City of Ottawa… How’s that WinterNoBrainActivityLude workin’ out for ya?
D’oh! – Homo Simpiens
I have learned silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet strange, I am ungrateful to those teachers. – Kahlil Gibran