From an account published in HuffPost in December of the ten years the author spent working as a cable technician in the Virginia suburbs of Washington, D.C.

otto’s mom

I had a woman with a bullmastiff named Otto. I told her I needed to get to her basement. She said, “Do you really? It’s just it’s a mess.” (That’s never why.) I told her what I told everyone who balked at their privacy being invaded: “Unless you have a kid in a cage, I don’t fucking care.” Kids in cages were an unimaginable horror then. Anyway,…