We collect them. Not so much animals, but strays of the human variety. I am not sure if they enjoy being called strays,but I am not sure of a better word to use. Plus we would never call them that to their face, and to us the word has no negative connotation. They are people that are displaced that need to be nurtured, and both P and myself have a surplus of the whole nurturing spirit. The problem comes in when the strays ( lets change it to gypsies) when the gypsies are not notably grateful. Not that we are doing what we do for them to gain a pat on the back or special kudos. We do it because that’s what we do, part of who we are.

I know this to be true, due to the fact that we have been burnt by 3 of our gypsies, and yet ……we keep on doing it. So it is either a part of who we are , or we are just suckers for punishment. And, for the most part, we have gained great friends through adopting our gypsies. As I said there are only 3 that leave a bad taste in our mouths and in our 7 years together we have picked up at least 6 or 7 . This latest one though really takes the cake. I am really in a quandary about what to do. Let me see if I can explain my situation.

This particular story begins about one week ago. I was at work and P was just hanging out at home putting some finishing touches on our patio. I called to see what was going on at the homestead. Patrick said nothing was going on, that he was just talking to a lady he “picked up on the street”. During the course of the evening I called him a few more times and there were repeated parts of the conversation with said woman. Now, in my mind, I thought that he was joking around, that he could not have possibly just “picked up a woman on the street”. I actually thought that one of our friends from the other side of the island had come to pay a visit and they were trying to “punk” me. I laughed every time I spoke to P during the night, comforted by the thought that the visitor was a friend. Comforted, that is, until I got home at around 11:30 pm, and saw a strange woman sitting on the patio chatting with Patrick. What was even more surprising was when the woman got up to greet me I saw that she was startlingly pregnant. By startlingly, I mean is due to give birth on the 21st of March. 

Later, after she had left for the night, I got the full story. Apparently P had taken Lola to go potty, while walking he was in deep conversation with Lola ( we do that …talk to our dog as if she was a human).  That one thing( talking to Lola) turned out to be the magnet. While P was talking a lady walked up to him and commented on how cute she thought it was that he was talking to Lola as they walked. P replied that it was not unusual and he does it all the time. The conversation turned to the gypsy asking Patrick if he knew of any place on our street that was for rent. She had had a place lined up but it had fallen through due to the guy she was going to rent from having an “emergency ” on the mainland. Remember, girl is pregnant. P then said that we had just moved into the neighborhood a week ago and had not heard or seen anything around that was being rented. The lady asked where we had rented and Patrick told her. She asked him if she could look at the compound because “she had always wondered what was behind that big bamboo fence”. She left that first night and we both breathed a sigh of relief, she stayed until about 1:30 am and we were not sure she was going to leave. Unfortunately our sigh of relief was to turn into a scream of frustration. Tune in tomorrow for …..the rest of the story.

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