The City of Monterey Park has contracted their animal control services with the County of Los Angeles this year. Monterey Park used to contract with the San Gabriel Animal Shelter for its animal services. What does this mean? I don't know. What do I know? I know that the city of Monterey Park is a corruptible non-service city. Why would I claim that they're corrupt?
Four years ago I was in the city to meet up with a landlord I had called about 30 minutes earlier. I was looking for a place to rent in an effort to save money. The place was on Graves near Alhambra Road. It had a driveway that ran down toward the back where a cluster of small one-to-two bedroom rentals were built in a row. As I stepped half way down the sloping driveway in my flip-flops to the units in the back, a pit bull steps out from under the threshold to one of the units. At first, the dog looked away from me to its left. But that was a just a reflex before it would see me, and see me it did. As soon as it did, its tail shot erect like a pit bulls' tail, which, of course, it was. I turned, and the chase was on. I ran back up the sloping driveway in my beach walkers looking for a place to ditch the dog. My first thought ran to the wall separating the two properties but I thought I heard a dog on the other side of the wall. I didn't want to go from the pan into the fire, so I kept running, if you could call it that. I eye-balled a medium-sized tree. Not big enough. At my weight and height, my climb could snap a branch and I'd feed my leg bone to the charging bull behind me. Options were shrinking as was my world. I could hear the dog's nails on the cement--not your typical click-clack; more like a tic-a, tic-a, tic-a. I ran into the street careless to any traffic and hurdled onto the trunk of my car parked on the opposite side of Graves, and as I did a woman across the street screamed. Apparently, she witnessed the chase and the dog's lunge at my foot from her next-door front porch. As I slid onto the trunk, for a split second I feared that I would slide off and into the jaws of the beast. As I found my footing on the trunk then to the roof, the crouched dog eyeballed the jump from the curb to the trunk of my car when the owner caught her by the collar and slapped the bitch across the face. My 6'4" frame, barefoot in flip-flops was standing on the roof of my car. The dog's look, now apologetic, was still fixed on me as the owner dragged her back to the house. There I was standing atop my car in my sandals in the middle of the day with traffic crawling past, drivers craning their necks to understand what drama unfolded here. The other neighbor to the west came out onto his porch to ask, "Are you okay?" I said I was and added that I am just glad to have my flesh. As the owner walked the dog back and locked her inside, the neighbor to the west came farther out into his front yard to speak with me. A very decent gentleman. He told me from his front yard while I was still on the roof of my Honda that her dog gets out all the time. He explained that when he does gardening in his front yard that he carries a hammer with him. He added that when his granddaughter comes over on the weekends for parties or barbecues that he has to keep everybody in the backyard, that the kids can't play anywhere in the front because of the neighbor's pit bull. I asked him about the city, if they know about it or if they've done anything about it? He said they know about it, but nobody can do anything until someone gets bit. So I thought I could convince the animal shelter folks. I went the city hall immediately to file a report.
The first officer who came to take my information listened to me briefly. As I finished, he asked me "What reason do you have to be in Monterey Park?" hinting that I was engaged in some criminal activity to put me on the defense. Unbelievable. He took my information and said that he would relay it to the Animal Control unit. He was the worst cop I'd ever met. Wait, is that true . . . ? Let me think . . . . Yup. He was the worst. Anyway, to make a long story short, I followed up on the next week and the Animal Control guy explained that nothing is going to happen, that they know about the woman. I caught the Animal Control guys in a lie, too, about having gone out to the woman's house. The cops say one thing, the animal control guys say another, the city blotter that contains all reports stated that no one went out to the woman's house. The cops and city officials of Monterey Park are liars, each one scratching the others' backs.
Four years ago I was in the city to meet up with a landlord I had called about 30 minutes earlier. I was looking for a place to rent in an effort to save money. The place was on Graves near Alhambra Road. It had a driveway that ran down toward the back where a cluster of small one-to-two bedroom rentals were built in a row. As I stepped half way down the sloping driveway in my flip-flops to the units in the back, a pit bull steps out from under the threshold to one of the units. At first, the dog looked away from me to its left. But that was a just a reflex before it would see me, and see me it did. As soon as it did, its tail shot erect like a pit bulls' tail, which, of course, it was. I turned, and the chase was on. I ran back up the sloping driveway in my beach walkers looking for a place to ditch the dog. My first thought ran to the wall separating the two properties but I thought I heard a dog on the other side of the wall. I didn't want to go from the pan into the fire, so I kept running, if you could call it that. I eye-balled a medium-sized tree. Not big enough. At my weight and height, my climb could snap a branch and I'd feed my leg bone to the charging bull behind me. Options were shrinking as was my world. I could hear the dog's nails on the cement--not your typical click-clack; more like a tic-a, tic-a, tic-a. I ran into the street careless to any traffic and hurdled onto the trunk of my car parked on the opposite side of Graves, and as I did a woman across the street screamed. Apparently, she witnessed the chase and the dog's lunge at my foot from her next-door front porch. As I slid onto the trunk, for a split second I feared that I would slide off and into the jaws of the beast. As I found my footing on the trunk then to the roof, the crouched dog eyeballed the jump from the curb to the trunk of my car when the owner caught her by the collar and slapped the bitch across the face. My 6'4" frame, barefoot in flip-flops was standing on the roof of my car. The dog's look, now apologetic, was still fixed on me as the owner dragged her back to the house. There I was standing atop my car in my sandals in the middle of the day with traffic crawling past, drivers craning their necks to understand what drama unfolded here. The other neighbor to the west came out onto his porch to ask, "Are you okay?" I said I was and added that I am just glad to have my flesh. As the owner walked the dog back and locked her inside, the neighbor to the west came farther out into his front yard to speak with me. A very decent gentleman. He told me from his front yard while I was still on the roof of my Honda that her dog gets out all the time. He explained that when he does gardening in his front yard that he carries a hammer with him. He added that when his granddaughter comes over on the weekends for parties or barbecues that he has to keep everybody in the backyard, that the kids can't play anywhere in the front because of the neighbor's pit bull. I asked him about the city, if they know about it or if they've done anything about it? He said they know about it, but nobody can do anything until someone gets bit. So I thought I could convince the animal shelter folks. I went the city hall immediately to file a report.
The first officer who came to take my information listened to me briefly. As I finished, he asked me "What reason do you have to be in Monterey Park?" hinting that I was engaged in some criminal activity to put me on the defense. Unbelievable. He took my information and said that he would relay it to the Animal Control unit. He was the worst cop I'd ever met. Wait, is that true . . . ? Let me think . . . . Yup. He was the worst. Anyway, to make a long story short, I followed up on the next week and the Animal Control guy explained that nothing is going to happen, that they know about the woman. I caught the Animal Control guys in a lie, too, about having gone out to the woman's house. The cops say one thing, the animal control guys say another, the city blotter that contains all reports stated that no one went out to the woman's house. The cops and city officials of Monterey Park are liars, each one scratching the others' backs.
