I called the cops on the biker climbing my neighbor’s balcony until I saw what he was feeding. My finger was literally hovering over the 911 call button when I looked closer through my kitchen window and realized the terrifying tattooed man balancing three stories up wasn’t breaking in.
He was holding a bowl of food up to a starving dog that had been trapped on that balcony for six days.
Six days. I’d been watching that dog die slowly for almost a week. A German Shepherd. Skinny. Desperate. Barking and whimpering at all hours. The apartment belonged to some guy who’d been evicted but apparently just left his dog there to starve.
I’d called animal control four times. They said they couldn’t enter without the owner’s permission or a warrant. I’d called the police.
They said it was an animal control issue. I’d called the apartment management. They said they were “working on it” but couldn’t break down a door without proper legal procedures.
