Rogue Tank

Henry is a loud, fun, cranky resident here. He roams the halls like a rogue tank, looking to stir things up. Normally, it is harmless fun. He has a running gag with one of the dining room servers. He claims that he has done a good deed--like running his finished dinner plate to the dishwasher--and since this deed, his 'debt' to the server has been reduced from $20 to $15. The server, a small Chinese woman, insists that 'he did it wrong' and he now owes $25. It goes back and forth like this, every night, every lunch.

One day, Henry noticed that Rae was uncovering the bird in the lobby at nine o'clock.

Now, Rae hates everything and everybody--except this canary in the lobby and her cat. She is a particularly bitter old woman but she does love animals. The canary used to be crammed into a small cage, with the minimum attention and left uncovered at night. Rae takes care of the bird in a kindly and attentive manner.

Henry was on it like a bloodhound. He called up the ASPCA and they confirmed that the bird should be uncovered soon after sunrise. Rae doesn't get up that early and there is nothing to indicate that the bird is suffering any. The bird sings, eat and looks healthy.

But Henry aroused is Henry happy. He confronted Rae. He accused Rae of mistreating the bird. Rae, of course, was infuriated. This was meat for Henry. He was in high clover.

Finally, I took him aside. Or rather, ambushed him at dinner. He was going on about how Rae was mistreating her bird--knowing that she could hear him. I told him to knock it off. I asked him, as a favor to me, to knock it off. With a lot of blustery talk and waving of hands, he finally agreed to stop.

He had his fun. Rae had her bird. And I like to think that I brokered a little peace around here.