Elizabeth Cady Coyote
Choosing Homelessness
Writer’s Note: This the sixth chapter of Elizabeth Cady Coyote. You can find the first chapter (FREE) by going to alanstark1@substack.com and scrolling down to January 1. Trigger warning, today’s post is a PAID post. For $5 you get to read all six installments and some 20 other posts. Come on, you can do it, just five bucks.
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Choosing Homelessness
Cady is visiting her friend Sarge at his primary camp west of Dogpatch along one of the St. Vrain creeks. Dogpatch used to be made up of dusty trailer parks, run down warehouses, auto repair shops, and artist studios/abodes. Dogpatch is now called NOBO, Boulder’s Arts District. It is not an irony that the homeless shelter is in NOBO.
“Sarge.”
“Go away.”
“It’s me, Cady.”
“I know that. Saw you coming ten minutes ago. Go away.”
“Hung over?”
“No, not accepting visitors.”
“Off your pain meds?”
“Yes, no money. Disability check comes next week.”
“They’re free, all you have to do is pick them up.”
“No car. You know it died last year.”
“Did your leg go out on you again?”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming in. No new booby traps?
“No, just the usual.”
Cady steps slowly over the first tripwire, stops and looks for the second trap with her keen vision. Not seeing anything, she moves forward a pace and stops and looks again until she sees the second fishline tripwire.
After carefully clearing the tripwire she moves down the trail a hundred feet to a clearing under some cottonwoods. Unlike most homeless tent sites, Sarge’s camp is clean and neat. The North Face dome tent and fly show some years of use but look to be well-cared-for, and set up perfectly to catch the morning sun. The tent is carefully placed to be out of the way of any large branches of a cottonwood that could crash down in a wind storm. Just outside of the tent flap is a four-foot-long sharpened piece of rebar, a formidable close-combat weapon.
On the other side of the tree there is a kitchen fly with an old green Coleman two-burner stove on a table, and three one-gallon milk jugs filled with water under the table. Beside the table is old metal ice chest with a bear-proof hasp and lock. It contains staples and utensils. There is also a dinner table chair to sit on while cooking.
Back in some high bushes is a patio with two unmatched camp chairs and a small table on a large carpet remnant. Sarge is sitting in one of the chairs smoking his pipe with his left leg stretched straight out to the ground in front of him. He half smiles as Cady trots up to the patio, circles several times and lies down while continuing to look at Sarge.
“You don’t listen, do you?”
“Not to you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you are a grumpy old alcoholic combat veteran and with deep psychological issues and incapable of appreciating friendship.”
“And you are stubborn, neurotically persistent, domineering coyote who meddles in people’s lives because she believes she is some omnipotent being who can change them, when she should be spending her time taking care of her mate and family.”
“Did I mention sexist pig? And how often do you use the word omnipotent?”
“Only when it’s true.”
Both are silent for a while. “So how are you, Sarge?”
“Not so good, Cady. My leg is acting up so I can’t work. And then I got a cold, hard stare from someone at Lucky’s Market as I was sorting through the potatoes making sure I got good ones with no bruises.”
“I know about your leg and wish you’d go to the VA in Denver and have them look at it. Maybe something simple like a shot or some meds could help.”
“We’ve talked about this before. I’ll go when I can.”
“The hard look? Maybe it was just a jerk. You were in the Army, you have plenty of experience dealing with jerks.”
“Yeah, but after a while all the distrust I run into because of the way I look just wears on me. It’s like I am getting blamed for everything bad that happens in Boulder.”
“I know about that too. Every time a cat goes missing, a garbage can gets turned over, or some tomato plants gets savaged, coyotes get blamed.
“That’s just frustration with the urban/wildlife interface. I’m not belittling what you are experiencing, but what’s happening to us homeless is a good deal more personal. This is endemic in Boulder society. People think of us as the ‘other’, something to hold in contempt or even hate. As soon as they see me they make certain negative assumptions. It is almost as bad as being exposed as a MAGA moron.”
“But you have to admit that there is a lot of petty crime here in Boulder that wasn’t here before the homeless crisis. You know, stuff stolen like bikes, packages from…