A distressed man studies his phone bill which has risen by fifty percent.  The same number is listed over and over again and he recognizes it as belonging to a woman who lives in another part of the state. She is young, single, with a child to support, is in the business he was in before he retired, and frequently calls to ask his advice. She telephones early in the morning, during the dinner hour and on holidays. If the man is present he will jump up and take her call, much to the annoyance of his family. When he returns home he rushes to play his messages and promptly get back to her number which has resulted in the exorbitant increase in his bill. The woman does not heed the advice the man gives her, in fact she often does just the opposite. Nonetheless, the man thinks this communication a necessary and worthwhile expenditure, despite having to write a check for 1/3 of his pension to the telephone company.

     When the man comes home one day, he goes to his answering machine and there are no messages. For the next several days the phone does not ring. When he picks it up one morning to make a call he discovers there is no dial tone. He tells his wife that he is going to the neighbor's house to report that their telephone is out of order, but she tells him not to bother, she had it disconnected; they simply cannot afford his behavior any longer. She picks up the book she was reading.

      The following morning the man wonders what to do with himself. He can tell that after all the years of going to work, his presence in the house hour after hour puts his wife on edge. He thinks he will walk to a newsstand, purchase the local paper and read the section that lists "volunteers wanted" while sitting in the park. The only people on the benches are old age pensioners like himself, and women with small children. When he pauses to watch the children in the playground, imbued with such energy and high-spirits, their mothers or nannies glare, sit upright and become ultra-vigilant. 

     The man is disappointed to find that the volunteer positions are all dull or depressing -- helping out with holiday crafts fairs, dressing in a Santa Claus outfit and ringing a bell while standing next to a large iron pot, or going into nursing homes and reading to senior citizens. The thought of reading to sedated elderly people only slightly older than himself who are too medicated to understand anything he says, is chilling.   

     A pack of dogs straining on their leashes enter the park from the south side, a young man in tow.  The man lurches after them and frequently looks at his watch. A minute or so later the group reaches the middle of the park where one of the dogs stops to defecate. The young man takes the opportunity to light a cigarette. Twenty-five yards further another dog does the same, while minutes later still another lifts its leg on the base of a water fountain. The older man is outraged, strides over to the dogs' caretaker and splutters: How could you not clean up after those animals? Children run and play in the area. You are a party to spreading disease and filth! The young man shrugs his shoulders and races off, the dogs leading the way.  The man walks back to where he was sitting. He knows the young man thought him a meddler who has nothing better to do than try and police other people, a man whose life is so devoid that he becomes upset over dog droppings. Nonetheless, the man takes comfort in knowing he is in the right and the young man is wrong--careless and negligent.

     The man spends the next several days in the park, and his wife shows her appreciation by cooking nice suppers upon his return. He is appalled to discover that the young man is not the only irresponsible park-goer--most of the people with dogs are more like the young man than not. This at first irks the man, then makes him furious. Over the weekend he charges up to several dog owners demanding they clean up their animal's mess. Some pretend he isn't there, and stare over his head at the tree tops; others tell him to fuck off, and still others narrow their eyes, grinning while their dogs menacingly bare their teeth at him. Whenever these incidents occur, a park attendant never seems to be on duty, and an attempt to report these occurrences to the washroom janitors proves futile when he discovers none of the janitors speak English.   

     One Monday he passes a drug store and sees they are having a sale on various items, most of them useless this time of year. Near a row of checkstands he notices some children's things, a plastic wading pool, several beach balls, some small buckets and shovels for making sand castles. He purchases the latter items.

     Unbeknownst to the man, he is frequently observed. The sight of him in late autumn, in his black pants and overcoat charging after dogs, a bright blue shovel in one hand, a blue bucket decorated with pink starfish and shells in the other, is the source of amusement or alarm, depending a park-goer's point of view. One woman who thought he was approaching to mug her, shrieked and called the police after she'd set her dog on him and the animal ran the other way.  The dispatcher did not bother to send any law enforcement, explaining that no crime was being committed.

    By early winter the man is a fixture in the park, and some, especially those who come on weekends to walk or jog, hand him tips. At first the man is confused by people trying to give him money, but is soon grateful and happy to accept it. When he has enough, he thinks, he will get a money order, possibly take it to the utility company and purchase a secret telephone number and voice mail, then go to the post office and rent a post office box for the bill, or will perhaps save enough to take a vacation alone, in a place with a warm climate, wide beaches, where animals are permitted.