There are a couple of nightclubs where I used to live. There was some recreational drug use and subsequently, some drugs sold in the area. The sellers were around most of the day. They would hang around the entrance of the clubs, the sidewalks by the clubs or even the street corners. When I moved into my condo, the sellers were bold and blatant with their activity. The only way for them to be any more obvious would be if they put a sandwich board on with the words "Drugs for Sale." Considering that the Raleigh Police Department's headquarters was a block away, these guys were flouting the law. I didn't approve of what they did, but I had to admire their nerve.
After a while, I became familiar with their faces but never did I acknowledge them. And they didn't acknowledge me, either. We were in separate worlds.
I noticed that the dealers did not like my dogs. If they were walking towards us on the sidewalk, they would step off the sidewalk, go across the street and keep continue going wherever they were going. It couldn't have been more obvious that they were avoiding me.
There are some who might say "How do you know they were selling drugs?" Well, I had a pretty good hunch. About a year or two later, the cops started cracking down on the drug selling. Initially, the cops would stand at the sidewalk and street corners the sellers stood at. This merely shifted the sellers further away from the clubs. I also saw cops doing stake-outs in unmarked cars a block away. Lastly, the guys avoiding the Babies didn't look "Fabulous" enough to be patrons at the nearby clubs. (Those clubs are gay bars.)
After the police crackdown, the guys who I suspected of dealing went away.
Even though I thought of my Babies as harmless sweethearts, obviously not everyone shared my affection for them. It's OK. I had more than enough love for the Babies to make up for any ill-will some may have had for them.
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