My Story

07/04/2004

Neighbors

Hoo boy, Kaitlyn but Grandmother is in trouble. It’s an odd story and by the time you read this my grandchild, well there might be peace in Iraq and Deerwood Delaware. Anything’s possible.

You see, Kaitlyn, as grandmother pens this book to you, she also posts the entries to her Blog on the Internet. Blog being short for web log and a dangerous thing for opinionated persons such as myself.

Way I figure I’m killing two birds with one stone here, intending full well to approach a publisher with this missive for possible publication. I don’t know, it could be one of those chicken soup for the soul things; a grandmother writing a book to her granddaughter. It does have a popular, “Lifetime” sort of appeal.

But since so many of the entries deal with current events, “current” meaning as of the writing, well I thought I’d post it on my Blog. And who knows, Kaitlyn, maybe I’ll sell a book or two.

Anyway, Kaitlyn, on the date of this writing, Blogging is a relatively new phenomena. By the time you read this, dear Granddaughter, I’m thinking it will be a federal law that all school children maintain a Blog and, indeed, an hour of each school day will be dedicated to writing upon one’s own Blog. It is reading and writing, after all, Kaitlyn Mae.

Alas, Kaitlyn, do not make the mistake Grandmother made. A Blog is NOT a diary. Absolutely anyone in the universe can read a Blog absent passwords and such. This is when my trouble began. Mr. New York read my Blog.

Now Mr. New York, Grandmother’s neighbor to the left and a nasty fellow as Grandmother has determined though he greatly disagrees (more on this later) didn’t chance upon my Blog by accident. He happened to read about it in our local newspaper in which, tada Kaitlyn!, Grandmother’s Blog was featured.

Indeed I was very flattered when the reporter sent me an email requesting an interview. It is a local yokel paper after all and the reporterette was, oh about 19 years of age or so. In fact, the photographer they sent to the house was but a child but hey, Grandmother smiled and played along to their request that they have a picture of my pioneering self working on my computer. I suppose it made good copy and what they hell, I figured if it got people to my Blog site they might buy one of my books, featured on the Blog site. Writers, Kaitlyn, must be whores of the highest order.

To my surprise, the very front page of the July 4th edition of our resort newspaper had as its headline “What’s the Blog All About?” The reader was directed to Page 7 which had, ahem, a HUGE picture of Grandmother when Grandmother thinks she is already huge enough. But there I am, smiling and sitting in what is obviously the kitchen, computing and Blogging. The reporterette also quoted an extensive (and one of the better written) excerpt from the Blog.

Oh my.

Sometimes, Kaitlyn, in this grandmotherly missive to you, I forget those unkind things I say about my neighbors and various in-laws. Seems Mr. New York didn’t like being referred to as “awful” (see Blog Entry 05/19/2004 5:27 PM “Gardening Challenge at Serendipity Shore”). I also insulted the nasty people on the other side of me, Kaitlyn, but I don’t think they can read.

I’m going to explain just why I think they’re nasty people in a bit, Kaitlyn, but before I do, allow your pioneering Grandmother to give you an insight into what is going on here. Which would be, I submit, dialoguing via the Internet. For if Mr. New York read my Blog than perhaps he is reading this entry. Now for sure, Kaitlyn, I am going to tell my side of the story as well as include the obligatory moral lesson to my beloved Granddaughter.

The dogs were a problem from day one Kaitlyn, and allow Grandmother to state right here and now that the entire problem was the fault of your beloved Grandmother and her somewhat unimaginative husband. It is no crime, Kaitlyn, to admit you are wrong. Indeed in some parts of the world except Saudi Arabia, such introspection is considered a good thing.

We’d just moved and both of us were struggling with how to handle the dogs. Which did not, Kaitlyn, settle into a bucolic bliss in their new yard to romp happily and merrily within the confines of the tall fence and while exhibiting polite canine behavior. So I named it Serendipity Shore, Kaitlyn, but the dogs were not serendipitous at all.

Jo-Ann, the Belgian Shepherd that you might know very well one day soon, Kaitlyn, jumped the fence within the first week of our move. This required that we put Jo-Ann on a lead to keep her in her own yard. We did string a long affair across the yard but she kept getting tangled and after an hour on the lead she’d have about an inch of movement left. The little dog, Cleetus, who you may NEVER meet, Kaitlyn, sat at the sliding glass door and whined all day to come in. Our original intentions were that the dogs would spend their days outside, together and happy with warm, dry dog houses provided, and come in during the evening hours. It was how we kept them at Critter Cove though even then Jo-Ann had been jumping that cheap chain link.

Billy and I dearly love Jo-Ann and I would walk through fire should anything happen to her. But if I had it to do all over again I’d never, not ever, get the Belgian Malinois breed of dog. Kaitlyn, they had the pups at $150 a pop and the breeder told me, when I asked her what was a Belgian Malinois, that they were lively, intelligent and protective dogs. We’d been looking for a pup to replace our mongrel dog of 15 years, Gloria, the most wonderful dog ever to have existed on the planet.

Jo-Ann is not, Kaitlyn, another Gloria. This breed of dog, Kaitlyn, is not to be believed, just the strangest damn dogs on the planet. She ripped every planting out of my garden in Critter Cove, including some small trees. She was incredibly destructive, easily bored, and, in the understatement of all time, a handful.

We got Jo-Ann before we knew we were going to move. But once we knew we were going to move we naively figured the quieter area and larger fence would contain her.

Both dogs were a problem but we did keep them in the yard, Jo-Ann always on a lead after she jumped the fence. We tried to persevere, to force them to get used to the yard and spending the day in it. We never, ever, left them alone in the yard when we would be gone. We did, and this was the mistake, leave them in the yard and stay in the house, going on about our business.

Jo-Ann was the greater problem to the neighbors but Cleetus and his incessant whining was almost unbearable. Billy and I were both at an impasse. The dog situation was untenable yet we had no solution to the problem.

The climax to the impasse occurred one day when every dog in the neighborhood was barking at something, I don’t know what. Before that, Jo-Ann had somehow got out of her lead (I now know that the clasp has a bit of rust that unless checked, could remain open) and was jumping at the fence of our neighbors to our right, who have a little Jack Russell terrier that Jo-Ann wants to get to know. She didn’t jump the fence that day but she was carrying on and trying to climb the thing. I think she thought she was still on a lead- indeed the entire lead was trailing behind her but not attached to the clothesline affair-and didn’t try to do her flying leap thing because of it. Still she was snapping and snarling and the lady came over, rang the doorbell, and asked me to come get the dog.

Which I did, hooked her back up to line, and went inside. This is when the neighborhood bark fest began and Jo-Ann was by now in a total frenzy.

Both neighbors came out at me, yelling and screaming and ignoring my pleas to talk it over. Mr. New York, a charming fellow, told us he was going to send us back to Maryland I was sooooo scared, Kaitlyn.

It’s no mind what was said during all the yelling and screaming except, dear Kaitlyn, Grandmother did apologize profusely because, well I was damn sorry. I didn’t want my dogs making anyone’s life uncomfortable, much less the innocent who weren’t even stupid enough to buy her. It was more thoughtlessness than anything else that Billy and I were guilty of. We were so busy with moving and still with no solution for the dog problem, we failed to take note of how Jo-Ann’s frenzied barking and perhaps the fear that she might get loose again and come barreling over into a yard that wasn’t hers, made the neighbors mighty uncomfortable.

Okay, Grandmother’s got her guilt out of the way and will further rest on her proven laurels, sweet Granddaughter. Because since the incident, almost a year now, Billy and I have both taken complete control of these dogs. They are never left in the yard by themselves; one of us is always with them. The porch has a handy gate installed and they can sit on it with me but they cannot bark willy-nilly at people in the simple act of walking around their yards. Oh they still do it, Kaitlyn Mae, but they are quickly scolded as, tada, one of us is always with them. Jo-Ann still insists on going over to that fence and when she sees the little Jack Russell she goes nutso and gets herself into a frenzy trying to climb the fence. I don’t know if she can climb that fence. She used to be able to jump it fluidly but for her to do that now would require enough of a running leap that whoever was watching her could stop her in time. Now Jo-Ann does the sneaky thing and jumps up to peak over that fence when we might not be watching. Also, I don’t think Jo-Ann can jump like she did as a youth as a)she’s fatter and b)she has a bad hip. At any rate, Billy or I manage to pull her off the fence and her insane desire to get over there to the little dog. She has a perfectly good little dog on her side of the fence and while Cleetus has his faults (pay no attention to your father’s nasty comments), he knows how to play Jo-Ann like a violin. Cleetus plays with Jo-Ann all the time and those two are hilarious when they play. But no, Jo-Ann wants to get over the fence at the other little dog because, well I just don’t know why.

But we are trying to train her and every day she gets a little better. The rambunctious pup is only, as of this writing, a bit over a year old. And of a breed that no sane person should try to own.

Now about the neighbors. Mr. New York, Kaitlyn, has this very strange habit of getting drunk in mid of night. He will then either walk the streets of the community of stand out on his deck, and shout to the world. Sometimes, Kaitlyn, I can hear what he’s shouting and sometimes not. The dogs will, as dogs do when a drunk is in the middle of the street yelling in front of their house, bark. Understand that the dogs are properly in their bed and sleeping during this time but Mr. New York, he hears the dogs barking at his tirades and he takes umbrage. He then proceeds to cuss out our dogs, calls Billy names, shouts and screams some of the stupidest stuff.
I consider this awful behavior, Kaitlyn, and this is moral lesson number one from Grandmother. For we live in an age when it’s considered politically impolite to judge people. Go to hell, drunks shouting and screaming in front of your politely sleeping household is not a nice thing and by Grandmother, it’s very boorish behavior. Last night he stood in front of my house and told me he was going to make our lives a living hell for the rest of our lives. He carried on over the gardens, called me a liberal, all sorts of stuff they he read on this very Blog.

He was angry, sweet Kaitlyn, that I said he was awful. Kaitlyn, even if he reads this entry today, I still think he is an awful person because awful people get drunk, stand in front of your house, and yell and scream at your quiet and law abiding selves in the middle of the night. I’d call that pretty much the definition of the word “awful”. I won’t even go into his assertion that he was going to make us miserable the rest of our lives. This is moral lesson number two, Kaitlyn Mae: Nobody can make your life miserable. Only YOU can make your life miserable.

I have every intention of continuing to lead my law-abiding happy life in Serendipity Shore and guys like Mr. New York have no power to prevent me from my lawful pursuit of happiness as guaranteed by the constitution and my status as a citizen.

Okay, that bit about the drunken midnight screamfests gets in the way but Kaitlyn, he’ll stop it. I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but so help me God, he is going to stop that horrible behavior. Maybe he needs your Grandmother to take him on.

OR, he could just come on over and introduce himself. We could sit and talk. I’d love to hear about his experience in Vietnam and as a New York cop. It is possible, I submit Kaitlyn, for him to become just a normal neighbor. We don’t have to be bosom buddies and frankly, I’ve never been one to hobnob with the neighborhood. However, they gave me a party when we moved from Critter Cove, where we lived mostly in peace for fifteen years. Billy and I aren’t perfect but neighbors could do waaaaaay worse than us as adjacent living companions.

As for the folks on the other side, well they’re not so nice either. Not that I care because, again Kaitlyn, my happiness does not depend on living next to pleasant people. They are the ones that left a cowardly note, Kaitlyn, in our mailbox (which is against federal law I might add), that our lawn needed mowing. Which it did as our lawnmower was broke but this is no mind, Kaitlyn. Who made them arbiters of good taste?

Also, when we first moved here, before the dogs and the notes, Billy and I noticed that the people across the street were setting up for a yard sale. Then we notice our neighbors to the right were putting up those orange cone things along the street in front of their yard. Billy and I both commented as to how very small this was. They evidently didn’t want yard sale patrons parking on the public street in front of their house.

So it’s not all Serendipity Shore here, Kaitlyn, but it is really nice. And Grandmother is very happy here and will continue to be so no matter how hard Mr. New York tries to make it miserable. He’s already such a miserable human being that I pity him. Kaitlyn, only mean and miserable human beings strive to bring misery to others. Genuinely happy people only want all around them to be as happy as them.


There’s a lot of laws being broken in all of this Kaitlyn, but Grandmother wisely has just ignored the pettiness around her. I will hold my head high, smile, and be pleasant at all times. I will do my duty and contain my errant dogs and for the most part, my yard and gardens are as lovely as anyone’s.

Given a choice between being around a happy person or a miserable one, Kaitlyn, who do you think most normal people would pick?