I saw a similar discussion to this on DCF a few weeks ago but paid no attention to it even though it is becoming common place to be approached by panhandlers in the NE Heights. Store parking lots and street corners are their usualy hangouts. But there I was, two arms deep into our front loader washing machine trying to pull the dead motor out so I could replace it with the new sparkling clean one in the box next to me. Then I hear the door bell. Then I hear the dogs trot to the door. The door is open but the screen door is closed. I don't hear the typical "dog dance" I would hear if it were someone they knew so I knew it was a stranger.
The bell rings again.
I pull my arms out of the dead washer. They are covered in lint, grease and some blood from a nick I got on a bracket. "Just a second!" I yell.
I get to the door. I am sweaty, bloodied on one arm and dirty. At the door a dis-shoveled, heavy set women seems startled at my appearance. She stammers for a second.
"...eh... excuse me but my daughter just got out of the hospital, I need thirteen dollars to buy her meds."
"Okay, let me see what I got."
I turn to rummage through some loose change in a cup on the kitchen counter. Then I hear her try to enter. I turn quickly and tell her to wait outside. I see a man has joined her.
"Could we come in?" he asks.
"No. This dog bites." I'm pointing to our heeler/pit cross. Her eyes are set on the couple.
I quickly make my way to retrieve the cup of change. When I return, they are gone. I step outside to see if they are lurking about but spot them a few houses down. I watch them for a while as they seem to pick and choose which home they approach. Back inside, the dogs are crashed like nothing happened. I latch the screen and return to the dead washer.