Out of the Closet
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Peter Edwards
PETER EDWARDS, crime reporter for the Toronto Star, is the author of ten books, including the highly praised One Dead Indian: The Premier, the Police and the Ipperwash Crisis. Edwards has been nominated four times for the Arthur Ellis Award and has been interviewed about organized crime for
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Out of the Closet - Peter Edwards
© 2013 by Peter Edwards. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 04/09/2013
ISBN: 978-1-4817-8971-4 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4817-8972-1 (e)
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,
and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
Dedication
Foreword
Acknowledgement
Chapter One A Hectic Life
Chapter Two Birth of a Movement
Chapter Three Strength to Strength
Chapter Four Coming To Terms
Chapter Five Changing Times
Chapter Six Call In the Police
Chapter Seven Give And Take
Chapter Eight Getting On With It
Chapter Nine Growing Old Disgracefully
Chapter Ten The First in Wales
Chapter Eleven Recognition for Achievements
Chapter Twelve The Future Is Bright
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this book to my very best friend Smokey, my dog, who has been with me now for 7 years, I rescued him when he was about 4 years old, it was difficult to say his proper age, as the rescue centre who had taken him in on the day I was there, had no idea or information on him, he had been taken away from some gypsies who had used him as a warning dog, chaining him up outside the camp in all winds and weather to bark at approaching vehicles, mostly lorries, and to keep him alert and keen, they would gee him up by shouting at him and throwing various objects at him, the R.S.P.C.A. had been alerted to this, and so forcibly removed him from their camp to be re-homed. What a stroke of luck for me to be there on that very day when he arrived at that rescue centre, and my eyes were immediately drawn to him, although I was warned that he would be very difficult to re-home, being stubborn and loving a challenge, I asked to go into his kennel with him, he snarled a little at me for a couple of minutes, so I just sat down on the floor on the opposite side of his kennel to him and talked to him in a soft and friendly voice, his head laid from one side to the other whilst he listened to me talking to him like I would to a small frightened child, for that is just what he was, he was not savage or aggressive, just frightened, poor little bugger I thought to myself, after approximately 15 minutes or so, he slowly crept towards me and sat alongside of me, I still did not touch him, just carried on talking to him, now I don’t know if I bored the arse of him or not, but after another 5 minutes he just laid on his back with his paws in the air and wagged his tail, I looked into those big brown soft eyes and whilst still talking to him, stroked his tummy, now his tail really started to wag, from that moment onwards I fell head over heels in love with him, and he with me.
From that day to this we have only ever parted when I have been on holiday abroad, then I have to find someone that knows him very well and gets on well with him to stay at my house and not only look after him but also live with him, for he has to be with someone all the time, he has his own bed/basket alongside my bed, and their he stays until you get up in the morning, and the longer you want to lie in those cold snowy mornings the more he likes it, and like every older gentleman, he knows when its bedtime in the evenings, and woe betide you if you don’t go to bed when he wants to, he will not go up those stairs on his own, oh no he just keeps nudging you until you give in, mind you it’s great when you are ill, he is the first to follow you up those stairs to get into bed, and their he will stay until you have recovered. The problem is though if the doctor has had to be called, he won’t let him get near me, and when I had a metal hip fitted some 3 years ago now, I unfortunately got an infection in the wound, which meant I had to have not only the doctor, but also the district nurse, what a fucking job I had then, hobbling on one leg holding Smokey whilst trying to let the caring professionals through the front door. He not only has his own bed, but also his own car, yes that’s right his own car, although he can’t drive, [well I don’t think so] he is just car crazy, he will sit in that car all day if I am outside working in the garden, and will only come out at the end of the day when I go indoors to prepare my evening meal, oh and his, and if I go around the corner of my grounds, out he will get to see where I am and then start grumbling in his own way until I move the car to a place where he can see me. He also has his own settee in the living room and god help anyone other than me who dare to sit in it, although he would not attack them, he just sits in front of them and stares that certain look at them, as if to say, that’s my fucking chair get out of it, when I first brought him home 7 years ago, he would not walk through an open door to my house, he had never been indoors before and was petrified to enter into unknown territory, so he slept in the car for 5 nights until I managed to coax him inside, that’s probably the reason he loves cars.
Why his own car you ask, well that all started when I was still working on the building sites, I always had an old banger car for work, something that I did not mind throwing bags of cement, bricks, roof tiles, anything connected to my trade, including loads of various tools into it, then driving it like a site dumper across rough muddy ground, now as he came to work with me every day since I have had him, that of course became his car, and as it was always an old banger I would take out the back seats and replace with flat boards to get more in, he obviously had his own bed in their as well, now I really do mean woe betide any one getting anywhere near that car, then he would have them, so when I retired a year early through ill health [metal hip] and the financial crash as described earlier in this book, he still wanted his car to sit in all day, and as my best car has lovely leather seats, and I love to cherish my cars, and am forever polishing and cleaning it, there was no way I was going to let him sit in that one all day barking at the passing lorries and any one getting near it, putting what I can only call, dog snot, all over the inside of the car and windows, so he has his own car, apart from anything else, the depreciation of my best car would be greater than the price of an old banger.
Problem is though, I do more miles in that banger than I do my best car, although as he is getting older now, he will behave himself in the best car with a blanket on the back seat, and if I tell him to stay their when getting out for some shopping or whatever, he does now stay in the back, and not cover my steering wheel in dog snot, and I always leave the car unlocked with the keys in the ignition knowing that no one will ever get in there to pinch it, he guards those cars better than any alarm system.
Throughout the whole of the time I have sat at my computer writing this book and the last one come to that, he has curled himself around my feet and only ever disturbed me when wanting to go outside for his toiletry needs. Or go to bed, which is right now, so before I get those sad looks I must soon draw an end to this dedication. As you have probably guessed I and Smokey are very close and the love between us is immense and I know that one day soon he will break my heart more than any woman ever has, but the memories and photos I have of him will live within me forever. A very good friend of mine once said to me [if you lock a woman and a dog indoors all night, then come back in the early hours of the morning covered in lipstick and drunk, see which one wags its tail and which one wags their tongue] need I say more, except that if there is a god up their please let me keep my Smokey till my dying day.
It can take anything up to 4 months before he will let any one new to stroke him, it all depends on how they force themselves on to him, by that I mean that some people see him as a challenge and try to make friends with him straight away, wrong, worse thing that they can do, it’s always best where Smokey is concerned to leave him alone, ignore him and let him come to you when he is ready, you will always know when you can stroke him, he will eventually come to you and wag his tail, then it’s ok to touch him, only for a short while though, because after a few seconds he will walk away from you, then leave him until the next time he comes to you. Poor Ian, an old friend of mine who helped me with setting up Tawebutterflies, he really likes Smokey and tried his hardest to make a friend of him, and every day he saw him he tried to coax him to go to him, after 3-4 months he thought to himself, he will be ok with me now, especially after he lets me into the house every time he called, and greeted him with a wagging tail [but never going up to him] so he made the fatal error and went to him and stroked him, bad mistake, he still carries the scars. He really does take a lot of understanding and working out, I know him and can read him like the back of my hand, but that’s another reason why I love him so much, he really is a character, another thing about him is, whenever I go abroad on my holiday, my son comes over and lives at my place to look after him, now Smokey simply adores my son, and he can do anything with Smokey, then when I return, I get attacked by Smokey with all the usual affection, jumping up me, trying to give me a kiss, crying as though I had been away for months instead of one week, [I can’t bear to be gone any longer, as I miss him so much] then after he has calmed down, about one hour, he sulks big time and won’t have anything to do with me for 2 days, apart from getting his food and walks, he just has that look to me from those big brown eyes as much as to say, you bastard, you left me. But after a couple of days talking to him as though he was another human being, he is back to his usual self and following me like a shadow, that’s just in case I creep out without him.
So it’s to Smokey that I dedicate this book, for he is the only one who has stayed with me throughout all my different moods, and still follows me everywhere I go, even to the bathroom, that’s got to be real love, the funny thing is though, he seems to let people into the house, but won’t let them out, and especially when I am dressed as Sadie he is much more protective of me and I can tell you there is one or two Tawebutterflies members who have had a nip on the back of their legs when leaving my house on a party night, especially if they shout out, well I am off now Sadie see you soon, fucking hell I have to grab him as quick as I can before he gets them. Spoiled he may be, but he is for certain one of the truest, best friend I have ever had, God bless him and love him, for I definitely do.
Foreword
I’ve known Sadie for quite