You live in a wonderful neighborhood. Everything is peaceful and calm.

Then one evening, the police are called. You have no idea what this is all about, but soon you will find out in . . .

Don’t Dwell On The Past

     It was a quiet Saturday night—that time of the month again. No, it isn’t what you are thinking. It was our monthly neighborhood dominoes game.

     “Jerry, let’s go. We’re going to be late,” Michelle yelled.

     “Okay, I’m coming. Just got one more shoe to put on.”

     “Can’t you ever be on time? It’s always one more minute. Just one more thing you have to do,” she complained.

     “I’m here. So stop your nagging and let’s get going.”

     The night was chilly, so I pulled my coat collar up around my neck, as we walked down the block to Sylvia and Dan’s house where we were playing. The door sign read, “Come in,” so I opened it and we entered.

     Just as I was about settled in at the kitchen table to play, Michael and Ann came through the front door. Michael had a strange look on his face, as he shouted . . .

     “Hey, Jerry, there’s a cop car in front of your house. I think I saw a guy in uniform at your front door.”

     “Did you or did you not see an officer at my door?”

     “I’m pretty sure I did. Maybe you should go check. Want me to come with you?”

     “You’re so observant. You’d be a great asset. But I think I’ll go alone.”

     I grabbed my coat off the bed in the guest room, zipped it up, and trudged back to my house. As I approached, I noticed a uniformed officer exiting the courtyard gate. “Officer, are you looking for me?” I asked.

     “You the owner of the house?”

     “Yeah, my wife and me. What can I do for you?”

     “I left a note on your door. Your backyard neighbor, Tom Wellman, filed a complaint about excessive dog barking in your yard. When I approached the door I could hear a dog barking. You need to quiet him down. Mr. Wellman said this has been going on for hours.”

     “That’s strange. We have two dogs, not one. We’ve only been gone twenty minutes and the dogs didn’t even bark when we left.”

     “Well, I wouldn’t worry much about it. Try keeping them in the house for a while. That should do it. By the way, what kind of dogs do you have?”

     “We have a schnauzer and a schnoodle.”

     “Hey, I have two schnauzers.”

     By this time, the dogs had discovered I was standing on the sidewalk in front of our courtyard. The barking was furious. I stared at the officer. “You know what you told me about keeping the dogs quiet? Standing here isn’t helping.”

     “Can I meet the dogs?” he said with a lilt in his voice.

     “Guess so. Just follow me, but stand back from the door until I introduce them to you.”

     “Sounds good to me.”

     So we entered the house. To my amazement Suzie and Sara took to him immediately. The next thing that happened confused me a bit. The officer, who I thought might arrest me, was rolling around on the floor with my dogs. What a world!

     When I returned to the dominoes game, Michael stared at me and whined, “So, I don’t see any cuffs on you.”

     “No, the cop was a nice guy. He told me to try and keep the girls quiet. Then he ended up playing with them.”

     The evening ended and months passed. No more cops were called again. Tom phoned and complained a couple of times, but these calls were neighborly. However, strange things do happen. Tom and his wife Alice got a dog, a beagle, who howled unmercifully, when they left the house to attend the baseball games of the local minor league team. We decided to enjoy the “musical renditions” rather than make an issue of it.

     As the years went by, Tom and I would run into each other on the street while walking our dogs. He now had two. Then one day, about eight years after the original incident, as we bumped into each other, Tom looked at me and muttered, “You know, why don’t you and your wife come over to my house for a backyard dinner on Memorial Day.”

     I looked at him, with a surprised, but warm grin, and stated cordially, “That sounds like a great idea.”

     The dinner went well. His wife, who had health problems, was very nice. And his two dogs, Wilson and Seeker, were quite friendly. Dogs do know when they’re with dog lovers.

     Over the next few months, Tom and Alice and Michelle and I had a few dinner dates at Mimi’s and the Claim Jumper.  Then Tom had hip surgery. When he was able to walk the dogs again, Michelle and I, along with our dogs, went with him and made sure he was steady on his walker, and when he was able to put it aside, that he didn’t fall.

     As he became his strong, physical self again, Michelle developed some health issues that kept her from walking the dogs with me. And, not to my surprise, Tom and I became dog-walking buddies. We walked and talked about everything—personal, political, and outrageous. The neighborhood began to see us as a team, and if one or the other did not appear, the one present was asked by those he met on the street if anything was wrong with his partner.

     We were just two two crazy dog-walking guys enjoying our morning walk. Affectionately, we named ourselves the “R and R” boys, standing for “Retired and Retarded.” Some might have thought the one “R” for retarded should have stood for “Ridiculous” instead, for some of our antics were a bit off-the-wall and included such things as awarding points for the first of our dogs to go poop. We also counted the number of times each pair went poop on a given morning to establish a winner, be it Tom or me, for that day.

     And then there was the poop toss. “Ready Jerry?” Tom would ask.

     “You bet I am,” I’d reply. “Which line do you want to shoot from?”

     “Third line from the trash receptacle works for me,” Tom would gleefully shout.

     With poop bags tightly tied, we each would aim for the trash bin and rejoice in our accomplishments, as we proclaimed how we should be playing for the Cavaliers or the Warriors. This was Tom’s and my world, and we enjoyed it and each other.

     One morning, as we moseyed on down Madden Boulevard, Tom sung, out, “Jerry, my fiftieth wedding anniversary is on August 5. I want you and Michelle to be there. We’re going to have about fifty people—friends and family. My daughter’s putting it all together.”

     “Tom, Michelle and I would be proud to attend,” I responded. “Tell us what time and where and we’ll be there with the dogs,” I laughed.

     “No dogs, but . . .”

     A few weeks passed, and as we walked, Tom looked over at me and commented, “Things have changed.”

     “What things?” I replied, thinking the worst.

     “Alice called our daughter and told her she was not up to a large party. She said she wanted to keep it around twenty—all family.”

     He seemed a bit down. “Don’t worry, I’ll still be your friend even if I’m not invited to the party. And Michelle will understand it has become a family only event.”

     “Huh,” he grumbled. “What do you mean you’re not invited? You’re family.”

     The party at Mimi’s was warm and wonderful. Tom and Alice, indeed, had an extraordinary family and we were a part of it. Marvelous things can happen, if you put the past behind you.

Copyright © 2019 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.