Larry

Aug 01, 2010 14:16

Yesterday, Bill had had enough.

Bill, you have to understand, can be kind of a passive guy. He and I are both weirdly shy, and I can't ask for help in the Home Depot. I have to wheedle Bill into asking for help on my behalf, and this is a big undertaking - at least twice as difficult as actually asking. (It is only recently that I have been able to speak up for myself in public, but that's another topic entirely.) Anyway, you know, when you spend 20 years with somebody, you get kind of weird together.

Did I tell you about my neighbor, Dear Diary? I know I told Facebook. I'm going to have to set this up, I think.

About a month ago, maybe six weeks, I got new neighbors across the street. A couple of bros, the kind that run around with their shorts falling off and no shirts and their stupid baseball caps worn backwards, the kind that drive trucks and have pit bulls and listen to music with lots of bass.

Also - in addition to my Queen Piddle Diddle, my neighborhood has a duck. The previous across-the-street neighbors had pseudo adopted her, and called her Murgy. They put out a kiddie pool for her and stuff, but when they moved, the duck stayed. The duck wasn't really a pet. It just arrived one summer and never left. Unbeknownst to the rest of the neighborhood, everyone had been caring for Murgy in their own secret ways. Blue house had put together a nest for her and was leaving out food, and was collecting her eggs. Flophouse had taken Murgy inside for the winter. I had been digging up worms for her in the front yard. And green house just kind of enjoyed her company.

Anyway.

The day the bros moved in, they pulled up in front of the house with a load of stuff. I was planting kale starts. I went to the backyard for another flat of starts and heard a big commotion. By the time I returned to the front yard, the whole neighborhood had congealed in the middle of the street. Those two minutes to get the kale starts were long enough for two pit bulls to burst out of the bro's truck, grab Murgy by the neck, and drag her into the middle of Alabama Street. The duck, the bros said, was OK but nobody could find her. The neighbors were incensed, and their indignation was being fanned by Alexarc, who was so mad he was shaking. It was kind of like that day at La Fiamma, when Alex told some guy to "watch [his] fucking kid." Alex had dug in his heels and was doggedly telling this guy to "watch [his] fucking dog." Bob had already called the police, animal control, and fish & wildlife. The bro was shouting, "It's just a duck! Control your fucking duck!" It was quite a scene.

Anyway, this is old news. Murgy vanished for awhile, and resurfaced unharmed. she avoids her former home but still comes to visit the rest of us.

The next day, the bros came to apologize. Alex tried to be calm but I could hear him breathing while he sat beside me on the porch swing.

The pit bulls, on the other hand, are out of control. The house has no fence, understand. The bros try to contain the dogs by attaching them to their clothesline. Sometimes it's entertaining to watch the pit bulls wrap their leads around various lawn furniture or the barbecue, and wreak havoc. Once they came up with a system where they put the lead on a shovel they had speared into the middle of the lawn. Geniuses, these bros.

Occasionally they think the dog(s) will be ok without a lead. A few weeks ago while we were having sangria on the porch with Stephanie, we saw their pit bull casually get up and leave the yard to pursue a bicyclist pedaling down Alabama Street. The bicyclist was startled to look down and find the dog, which was all the motivation the pit bull needed to start leaping and snarling at the poor guy. He had to put the bike between himself and the dog. One of the bros came out and said "Dude, I'm so sorry! She's not supposed to be out, I don't know how that happened!" This was a lie - we had seen him purposefully bring the dog outside while he puttered in the yard.

This bothered me. My kid rides his bike past this house to go to school, you know? The duck was one thing, but now it had gone after a person. I was really upset. We had a family argument about it, and right or wrong, deduced that nothing was the right course of action. We didn't want to become the object of retaliation. I was upset because I didn't want my son to become the object of a pit bull, but eventually I thought I must be overreacting. Maybe it was a one-off.

Fast forward to yesterday. Bill and I were walking to Carol's house to retreive our car, which we had left there the night before. (The nice thing about partying close to home, ha ha.) We saw Larry at the bus stop.

Larry is just about the sweetest creature you ever met. If I had to guess at his age, I'd pick 50 but it's hard to say. There's something rounded and gummy about his face and his voice is very high. His voice is what I imagine Owen Meany's sounded like. I don't know as I could say there's something wrong with Larry, as I've never seen him be anything but sweet as pie. But he's extremely childlike; I suppose he's mentally retarded. He has been a fixture of the neighborhood since I moved here ten years ago. He's so open and glad to see you. At the library last week he was checking out ahead of me in line. The lady at the counter gave him a face-splitting smile and said, "Oh Larry! Good to see you! What are you going to read this week?" He's just...yeah. He's Larry.

Larry saw us at the bus stop and said, "HI! I KNOW YOU! WHERE DO I KNOW YOU FROM?" We reminded him that we were his neighbors. Larry was wearing his usual outfit, jeans, suspenders, and a plaid shirt. He held out his hand to shake and when I reached to take it, he put his arm around my shoulders and hugged me. He said, "WHERE ARE YOU GOING? DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS HOUSE? IT HAS A DOG! IT CHASED ME AND MY FRIEND DOWN THE STREET! NOW I CAN'T WALK BY YOUR HOUSE ANYMORE, I HAVE TO GO A NEW WAY. DO YOU WANT TO SEE HOW I GO NOW? I'LL SHOW YOU! LOOK BACK UP THAT ALLEY - SEE THAT HOUSE? I HAVE TO WALK BY THAT HOUSE NOW." We told him that we didn't like the dog either, told him to be careful and said goodbye. "GOODBYE! SEE YOU SOON," Larry said.

We got the car and came home and as we pulled up, there was a convertible silver Mercedes in the driveway of the bro house, an older moneyed couple sporting tans were getting out. Before I knew it, Bill was out the door of his car:

"Hey, do you own this house?"

I was astonished. The guy I had to beg to ask for corkboard at Home Depot was already across the street telling this couple about (their grandson's) dog problems before I could even get out of the car. I didn't say anything, but I stayed near the car for solidarity. Their voice was tight but they were apologetic. Bill suggested they build a fence.

In the house, I told Bill how proud he had made me. "When I heard that Larry had to change his route," he said, "that was pretty much the last straw."

What a softie!
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