Every morning, Pali and I head out for a walk at around 6 AM, generally following the same route through the neighborhood and to the beach. Finding an excuse in the local habit of not picking up after the dog, I have also become very lazy if a plastic bag is not readily at hand when I leave the house. This one morning, Pali did her business in the same parking lot she's grown accustomed to, and also this morning, I did not have a plastic bag on hand. We walked, and from the corner of my eye, I noticed a man who also took notice of Pali's poop. When he yelled out, "Slikhah!" I ignored it and continued to walk away. I was probably two blocks away turning a corner when the man ran and caught up to me. He then held out his badge. I realized they were the "Dog Police" Jana and the neighbors had warmed me about.
The Dog Police as we call them since we do not know their official title are a group of city employees who patrol the streets of Tel Aviv on mopeds enforcing the various city dog ordinances. Jana had a previous run in with one of them at the park who warned her that Pali needed to be on leash. Jana held up her bag of poop in response and said, "At least I picked up her poop."
At the moment he showed me his badge, all I remember thinking was "I don't want to get a ticket." Out of all the reasonable options I could have taken, I decided to try the "I'm an immigrant who doesn't understand Hebrew or English" plan. So he spoke in Hebrew, and I blankly looked at him. So he spoke in English and I looked blankly at him. He asked, "Do you speak English?" and I simply stared. He started getting frustrated and kept repeating "English, English, English?" So I finally responded with "Vietnam." He recognized the "Vietnamese" and continued to ask some question in English for which I really don't remember, and I guess really isn't so important in this story. He did finally call up another one of his Dog Patrol buddies who quickly came on his moped. And again I repeated the same scene with the new guy. At some point, I was thinking, "you must find this a big waste of time, give up, and let me go." That point though never came.
I was taken back to the scene of the crime. I saw the poop and scooped it up with a nearby cup littered on the ground. After throwing away the poop, I said "Beseder?" which is "OK?" in Hebrew. He said, "No, I must write you a ticket." But to write me a ticket, I needed to give him my ID which I didn't have on me. I also never responded to him where I lived. One of the guys even took out his iphone and went to google translate to translate from hebrew to vietnamese. I gave him a confused look because indeed I was confused as I never really learned to read. We kept on waiting though, and I soon realized that he had called for the police. The real police. Thinking that's too far of an escalation, I came clean and said to him, "So you just need my ID to write me a ticket." He responded, "Yes. I need the ID. Wait! You speak English."
He wasn't too happy a camper after that but there wasn't much he could do. I took them back to my apartment and gave them my Passport and Pali's dog registration card, but the story doesn't end there. A third Dog Policeman came to scan Pali's RFID tag and verify her paperwork. Now since we're not Israeli citizens, we do not have an Israeli ID card or number. For all our identification needs, we use our Passport number. This was also the case for the dog registration paperwork. When they called in to check the ID number, it came back with an Arab person in some Palestinian village as the owner of Pali. They were soundly confused.
It finally ended with them saying, "Ok, there's something wrong that we have to sort out. What's your phone number? We'll call you when it's sorted out to give you your ticket. And don't give us a fake number."
The Dog Police as we call them since we do not know their official title are a group of city employees who patrol the streets of Tel Aviv on mopeds enforcing the various city dog ordinances. Jana had a previous run in with one of them at the park who warned her that Pali needed to be on leash. Jana held up her bag of poop in response and said, "At least I picked up her poop."
At the moment he showed me his badge, all I remember thinking was "I don't want to get a ticket." Out of all the reasonable options I could have taken, I decided to try the "I'm an immigrant who doesn't understand Hebrew or English" plan. So he spoke in Hebrew, and I blankly looked at him. So he spoke in English and I looked blankly at him. He asked, "Do you speak English?" and I simply stared. He started getting frustrated and kept repeating "English, English, English?" So I finally responded with "Vietnam." He recognized the "Vietnamese" and continued to ask some question in English for which I really don't remember, and I guess really isn't so important in this story. He did finally call up another one of his Dog Patrol buddies who quickly came on his moped. And again I repeated the same scene with the new guy. At some point, I was thinking, "you must find this a big waste of time, give up, and let me go." That point though never came.
I was taken back to the scene of the crime. I saw the poop and scooped it up with a nearby cup littered on the ground. After throwing away the poop, I said "Beseder?" which is "OK?" in Hebrew. He said, "No, I must write you a ticket." But to write me a ticket, I needed to give him my ID which I didn't have on me. I also never responded to him where I lived. One of the guys even took out his iphone and went to google translate to translate from hebrew to vietnamese. I gave him a confused look because indeed I was confused as I never really learned to read. We kept on waiting though, and I soon realized that he had called for the police. The real police. Thinking that's too far of an escalation, I came clean and said to him, "So you just need my ID to write me a ticket." He responded, "Yes. I need the ID. Wait! You speak English."
He wasn't too happy a camper after that but there wasn't much he could do. I took them back to my apartment and gave them my Passport and Pali's dog registration card, but the story doesn't end there. A third Dog Policeman came to scan Pali's RFID tag and verify her paperwork. Now since we're not Israeli citizens, we do not have an Israeli ID card or number. For all our identification needs, we use our Passport number. This was also the case for the dog registration paperwork. When they called in to check the ID number, it came back with an Arab person in some Palestinian village as the owner of Pali. They were soundly confused.
It finally ended with them saying, "Ok, there's something wrong that we have to sort out. What's your phone number? We'll call you when it's sorted out to give you your ticket. And don't give us a fake number."
Goodness Gracious Sonny Boy! you are too intelligent to play dumb... pick up the dog taki and follow the law. we don't want you to get kicked out of the country over dog taki...or worse, get Pali given over to the Arab guy!
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