Knackered Has Regulations with Benzos

     Hey there, Knackered here. The stumbling gait of our protracted buddy comes to a halt as he is met with caution tape and orange cones that reach out in all directions.  What now, he thinks.  It appears that more regulations have postponed his progress. He’s being told to hold his roll.  An aging tree has come down during the night.

   Knackered’s headspace has been inundated with regulations as of late.  His therapist wants him to chillax, the cardiologist wants more data and evidence of regular exercise, and his medical provider wants him to stop messing with his taper. Enough already.  

   Looking up, he finds that the department of urban forestry wants a piece of him this time.  The pedestrian detour would have him walk out into traffic and hug the curb to seek safe passage. He wonders if they’d regulate his hospital bills if he got hit by a bus in the process.  

   Alas, Knackerville is awash in regulations. Dog poop must be bagged, licenses must be worn, and vaccinations must be kept up to date.  Pet police go door to door to check on this.   

   Cats, of course, seem to get a free pass.  Who can even find them when they want to for heaven’s sake? If they want to regulate something,  they should start with that black feline next door.  Knackered is sure that ‘Kitty’s’ at least several genes short of full domestication and it delights in harassing the crap out of his poor aging Labrador. He is scared of it himself, as it roams silently and gives him the stink eye. 

   The nuisance abatement officer has appeared on his doorstep twice now.  When he put up his fence, they told him that according to city code, the front of his house was actually the side of his house and the side of his house was actually the front of his house.  As he shook his head, Knackered was informed that the fence had to be lowered.  They also informed him that he had failed to obtain the necessary permits.  Egads, he thought, such trouble.  

   He is much in favor of guidelines, but all this is terribad.  Soon the city council is likely to require barbed wire and roving flood lights. Knackered is quite sure there are cameras in place to sort out errant coverts running amok.  

   Back in high school he was taught that the “the government that governed least, governed best”.  (Thoreau)  To that end, his teacher adopted the the same laissez faire attitude toward his instruction and they spent most of their time horsing around in ‘discussion groups’.  A couple of righteous brats in honor society turned the guy in and he disappeared at semester.  

   Disgusted now with retaliation through reminiscence, Knackered decides to take things to the next level.  With an attitude clearly reflective of ‘bite me’, he ducks under the yellow tape and begins thrashing his way through the broken branches.