The Un-Neighborly Neighbor

 

I had a post for today, a post mother's day post if you will, but after what just happened to me, that one will have to wait.

I've told you before how much I love where I live.  The mountains, the ocean, the tight-knit community.   But with every silk lining, I guess there comes a black cloud.

And today, I ran smack into one.

I was on my regular walk with my two Labradors, Greta and Peanut.  On the way up, toward the crest of a tall hill, there are two gated properties.  Two properties.  Three dogs.  Every time I pass these homes, I veer off the sidewalk and a bit into the street to make a safety zone between my dogs and the other three.  I can't go too far into the street because it is a narrow, winding road at the top of a hill and, though visibility is slim, cars still drive at full speed.

The three dogs came up to their gates, as they often do, pushing their snouts through the wrought iron and barking.  If my dogs were off leash, we could walk by without a hitch, but on leash, Peanut, my almost 2 y.o. rescue, still has issues when confronted by another dog.

No matter.  I've been there, done that.   I had the situation under control and we walked by with little more than a yank and a skip.

Until we returned on the way down.

That's when all the dogs went berserk.

There was barking, growling, lurching, twisting.  I was in the street, attempting to get some distance but, instead, I got caught up in a tightening snare of leashes, bared teeth and furry muscle. 

Just then a woman came out of her home about 100 feet up the hill and said something to me. 

"What?" I replied, cupping my hand to my ear trying to block out the dogs, "I can't hear you."

"I saw you hit your dog," she repeated.

Taken aback (I assumed she was going to ask if I needed some help),  I responded, "I did NOT hit my dog."

"I saw you," she accused, pointing her finger at me as she further threatened, "and if you do it again I'm going to call the police."  

With that she turned around and went out of sight denying me the chance to prove my innocence.  To tell her, what anyone who knows me already knows, that I am a HUGE dog lover.  That I go above and beyond to take excellent care of my dogs whom I would NEVER abuse.

I didn't get to say any of that.

As soon as I untangled myself and began the descent toward home,  my blood started to boil.  My heart started to race.  My breathing got tight.  I began to think of all the things I should have said had I been quicker to the draw.

So I did what any falsely accused person would do...

I screamed back at her at the top of my lungs:


"YOU'RE CRAZY!"



"MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!"


"GET A LIFE!"

Okay, maybe not ANY falsely accused person, but THIS falsely accused person.

She PISSED ME OFF!

A bit later, I'm finding it interesting, worthy of some analysis, that I was so enraged by a stranger.  I know I didn't hit my dog but I am livid that she doesn't know it, too.   This woman walked into her house convinced that I was a dog abuser.  She's telling people, as I'm telling you, that she encountered some crazy woman who screamed insults at her from halfway down the block when all she was trying to do was protect a dog.

Well, at least I have my readers, who will hear my truth.  There is some vindication in that.  And at least now, having let it all out, I won't go back and leave a nasty, turd encrusted note in her mailbox.

I HOPE HE WENT GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT

It's funny how events in life can seem random until something happens that makes you question whether they were random at all. Last night I quoted Dylan Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night". Today, I played and re-played NPR's "This I Believe" essay about the importance of NOT minding your own business. It struck a chord though at the time I knew not why. The writer told of the lesson she learned when a neighbor of hers, a young boy was beaten to death by his abusive father. The neighbors interviewed by the media, her neighbors, were a cliche. "I don't know how this could have happened," they all claimed. "We're shocked. Quiet man. Kept to himself a lot." But this writer said the neighbors, including herself, were all liars. That they heard and saw many things which made them uncomfortable but they all decided to mind their own business. Well, minding their own business, the writer said, cost a little boy his life.

My neighbor committed suicide yesterday. I found out this evening. It came as a shock - at first. But like the essay writer, a few moments of thought, of putting things together, and I realize I should have seen it coming.

Steve was a loving husband and father of two little children. They were the family you thought you ought to be. Always riding bikes together, taking nature walks, playing ball outside past dark. They ate only the most nutritious foods. Giggles and laughter were often heard on warm nights when windows were left open. They were happy. Steve was the mayor of our block. Always the first to strike up a conversation with one, or more, of us and never the first to end it. He owned a good deal of real estate and he could talk about his business for hours. That was before the sub-prime fallout.

Sometime during the summer, Steve stopped coming out. When I did see him, he didn't offer his usual gregarious greeting. I thought maybe I'd done something to offend him but I never asked. With Fall, the days got busier and shorter. The few times I saw him, as I was driving a kid to school or off to run an errand, I waved but he didn't wave back. I thought it strange but I decided it was best to mind my own business. That, and I was busy enough with my own problems. A month or so ago, my husband and I did discuss the change in Steve and we attributed his behavior to tough economic times. But who wasn't having them right now, especially here in the land of the writer's strike?

And then I heard the news. With his wife and kids on vacation, Steve killed himself. Planned? I don't know. That is one of my many questions. But do I have the right? Talking with neighbors as we spread the tragic news and shared stories, I realized that we all had the same concerns about Steve. That we'd all noticed the shift. My neighbor across the street who lives right next door to the family said she noticed the house had fallen strangely silent in the last few months. She noticed, too, that Steve's wife, was less likely to stop and chat. She talked with her husband wondering if maybe there was marriage trouble. They minded their own business. A few days ago, I saw Steve's wife as I was driving toward my home. We waved as usual but there was something in her gaze - I couldn't read it then other than to think it queer - but now I wonder what she was thinking? Did she want to tell me to look after Steve while they were away? I don't know, I was minding my own business.

In an instant this woman's life was turned upside down. I want to scream at Steve for taking the coward's way out, for leaving his wife with financial and emotional debts to pay. Didn't he know the bad times were temporary? But I learned that Steve was sick. Depressed. And when you're in darkness it can be difficult to see the light, or believe it even exists . He could have thought he was doing his family a favor by checking out; relieving them of the burden of a failed provider.

My heart cries out for Steve tonight. For his wife and beautiful children. I hope he went gentle into that good night. I will no longer mind my own business and I will be there for his family however I can. I wish I had been sooner.