A Dog’s Life1
By Jamie Friedman 2
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Chapter One6
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8 Chester Ludlow sipped his coffee as he looked out the picture window in his living room. Life was so much nicer since he had moved to the new house on Timber Lane. He now had a five minute drive to work, which meant that he could get up an hour later than before. Getting up later was a luxury that he cherished.
Chester had moved to the small two-bedroom cape during the previous summer. He had taken great pride in making small repairs and painting the rooms in a variety of colors. He had purchased some new furniture, installed new carpet in the living room, and resurfaced the cabinets in the kitchen.
He was proud of his new home. After renting for years, he had managed to scrape together the money for the down payment. His house, one of the nicest on the street, was located in a popular neighborhood just on the outskirts of Stamford, Connecticut. Surrounded on all sides by similar homes, it had a nice little back yard that was fenced in with a stockade style fence, and a small but well-groomed front yard. The lawn was easy to take care of, and there were some foundation plantings along the front of the house in a bed that was large enough to put in some annuals each summer. 9
At eight fifty he left for work, and as he backed out of the small one car garage, down his driveway, he took one more, closer look at his handiwork, deciding to get out and smooth over a section of the mulch which was somewhat ruffled.
Chester worked as an inventory data specialist for a warehouse supplier. Lord and Mark Data Services was a large company that that took care of storage and shipping for a multitude of small supply houses. Lord and Marks’s specialty lay in computerized inventory tracking and analysis, as well as shipping operations that enabled smaller outfits to free up space and cash flow. He spent most of his day in front of a computer transferring information from hand held scanners into the highly advanced computer programs designed to work with inventory analysis. It wasn’t exactly exciting work, but he liked it. It paid the bills, and quite nicely. Chester was one of the head programmers in the office.
He put in his day, taking only a half-hour lunch, and left the office promptly at 5 PM. He was a good employee, but he was eager to get home and be in his garden.He took the long way home, stopping at the convenience store for some milk, bread, and ice cream sandwiches. Chester loved ice cream sandwiches.
He pulled into his driveway, and that wonderful feeling of serenity washed over him. As he drove up towards the garage bay he glanced to the left and noticed that the garden bed was all torn up around the base of the first rose bush. “Curious,” he thought. He got out of the car and walked down to get his mail. Stopping at the end of the garden, he looked down at what appeared to be a hole right at the base of his “American Beauty.”
He looked around to see if there was anyone looking. "Strange," he thought. Someone or something had dug a large hole at the base of the plant. The ground was all torn up, and a fairly large portion of the roots were exposed. He stared at the disturbed soil. He looked at the surrounding telephone poles and trees to see if he could spot any squirrels or chipmunks. “This looks like the work of rodents,” he concluded.
Bending down to repair the damage, he filled the hole in with the surrounding dirt, and did the best he could to cover the area with the mulch used in the entire bed. Feeling somewhat agitated he brushed himself off, got his mail, and walked back into the house.
Chester went about his routine. He changed into casual clothing, looked over his mail, placing all his bills in the clip by the phone, then started to make dinner. He cooked a nice dinner almost every night. It was one of the fun things he did for himself, and over the years he had become a pretty good cook. He found it relaxing and soothing, but tonight he was distracted. He couldn’t get his mind off the hole he had found in his rose bed. It must have been a squirrel he thought. “Yeah, that’s it, a squirrel looking for nuts, or acorns that fell from a tree.”
When he drove off the next day, everything was as it should be. He backed out of the drive, and as he began to drive off, he paused momentarily to admire his beautiful flowers. 10
11
Chester’s day was uneventful. He took a half-hour lunch, instead of his allotted hour, so that he would finish by 5 PM. If he took the full hour that he was allowed, he often wouldn’t finish entering all his data by the 5 PM whistle. During the busy seasons, Chester often worked till six or seven. 12
It was a gorgeous afternoon when he left work, so he took his time driving home. He made a quick stop at Miller’s Garden Supply to pick up an extra bag of mulch. He pulled into his driveway, and was halfway to the garage bay when he stopped suddenly. What he saw shocked him. In a section of the garden, at the same place that was dug in before, was a large hole. Twice the size of the previous day, it was not only deep, but also the roots of his favorite bush, the American Beauty, had been ripped apart. The plant was dislodged from its hole, and was leaning over. He jumped out of the car and looked at the damaged plant. “What the hell is going on here?” he thought. No squirrel could do this, he realized.He looked up and down the street to see if anyone was watching him. Maybe someone was playing a practical joke on him and wanted to see his reaction. The street was empty except for a couple of small kids playing on their tricycles at the end of the block. He put his hands on his hips and sighed. Looking back at his damaged plant, he shook his head in exasperated disbelief.
Chester went into the house to put on his work clothes. This was no quick smoothing of the mulch. He wasn’t even sure that he could salvage the plant. Feeling a level of irritation that he was not accustomed to, he took his small wheelbarrow from the garage, with the shovel and spade, and walked down to the end of his drive to help his poor little rose bush. He looked up and down the street again, just to make sure no one was watching. “Who would do such a thing?” he wondered.
He began to dig out the small root ball of the prize American Beauty rose bush, carefully taking the plant out and setting it aside. He widened the hole, placing the extra dirt in the wheelbarrow. Then he gingerly replaced the injured shrub. He filled the remaining area around the roots with the potting soil, and patted down the fill with his hands. He stood and examined his work. It looked pretty much the same as before, but he was certain that the shock would prevent the shrub from flowering soon.
When he had replaced the mulch he watered all around the freshly planted rose bush. He swept up the driveway where he had spilled some dirt, and raked the grass around the bed. He brought the wheelbarrow and the garden tools back to the garage. Brushing himself off, he walked back down to look over his handiwork. Not bad, he thought, considering the way it had looked a half-hour before.
Chester went back into the house to clean up and make dinner. He wasn’t in a really creative mood, so he just pulled out a frozen dinner and stuck it in the microwave. He got a beer, and went out back to relax for a few minutes before he ate.
Sitting in the chaise lounge chair on his small but reasonable patio, he listened to the sounds of the neighborhood. It was still early, so not too many people were home. He heard some birds chirping, and the gleeful sounds of children playing a few houses over. He was starting to relax, but couldn’t for the life of him, figure out what had happened to the rose bush. “It must be a cat or something. No person would be so crazy that they would vandalize a neighbor’s plantings. That's too bizarre.” He heard the isolated barks of a dog somewhere, and his mind began to wander. Finally, a sense of calm started to come over him, and he was about to drift off to sleep when he was awakened by the blasting of a television set from the house behind his.
He had heard the TV before, but wasn’t quite sure who lived in the house. It was blaring at a ridiculous volume, as if it was in the middle of his yard. He walked over to the stockade fence and peered over. The sliding glass door to the neighbor’s house was wide open and from somewhere inside the sounds of TV commercials blasted at full volume. No one was in sight. He called hello a couple of times, and was about to shout a bit louder when he heard the beep coming from his kitchen signaling that his dinner was ready. He huffed in resignation and went inside, slamming the back door.
This was not his day, he thought. He ate at his kitchen table while listening to classical music on the radio. He loved classical music; Mozart in particular, and found that it always helped to calm him down. Tonight was no exception, and after he had finished his dinner he was feeling much better. The blasting from his back yard neighbor had ceased, and night was falling. He took a quick shower and decided to call it a day.
Climbing into bed, his mind raced, thinking about the peculiar mutilation of his beloved rose bush. Finally, slumber overtook him, but he had a fitful sleep. He dreamed that a giant lawnmower was driving haphazardly over his property, lopping off the tops of all his roses.13
He woke the next morning feeling less than rested. He had his usual breakfast of half a grapefruit, cereal, and one cup of coffee. He backed his car out of the garage and down the driveway. It was indeed a beautiful day. The sky was crystal clear, and the sun was warm and bright. His roses looked brilliant in the morning light, and Chester felt confident that the desecration of his beloved garden would cease. The replanted American Beauty looked fine, the bright red blossom that had bloomed earlier in the week was still healthy looking. With a sigh of relief, he backed out into the street and drove off to work14
Chester’s day was going quite well. He had a productive morning, and was able to keep his mind on his work. The distress that he had experienced had all but dissipated, and he felt himself again. He decided to take a full hour lunch break and go home. He did that occasionally if he needed to get something he forgot, or just to get a change of scenery. He saved all his work and shut down the main data program, walked out through the main lobby, saying good day to the receptionist Mrs. Lowry. On his way home he picked up a sandwich at a local deli and was at his door in 10 minutes. Plenty of time to eat and relax before he headed back to work. He pulled into the driveway and was pleased to see that everything was in order in his “Garden of Eden.” 15
He sat on the patio in the back while he ate, wondering about the back yard neighbor, and why they would play their TV so loud. Finishing his sandwich, he decided to have a quick cup of coffee to help perk him up. He poured a cup of the cold brew that was left from the morning, and put it in the microwave for a minute. Just what he needed to make it through the rest of his day. Looking at the clock he saw that he still had a half-hour before he had to be back at his desk. He took his coffee into the living room, went to the stereo cabinet and pulled a CD from the rack. Mozart’s Greatest Arias. He put the CD in and let the sounds of the great master wash over him. Singing along with Don Giovanni, he conducted as he walked to the table by the sofa where he left his coffee. He passed by the large picture window overlooking his front lawn and what he saw stopped him in his tracks. 16
Down by the end of the driveway, in his garden, was a huge German Shepherd, digging madly in the garden bed. He had apparently dug out Chester’s freshly replanted “American Beauty,” and was in the process of mutilating the “Queen Elizabeth” just to its right. “What the Hell!” Chester screamed. He ran to the front door, fumbled violently with the lock, and dashed outside.17
“Hey!” He shouted. “Get the Hell out of there you mutt!” The dog, a rather large example of the breed, casually looked up. Not in the least bit alarmed by Chester’s outcry, he lifted his leg and urinated on the demolished Queen, before trotting off around the corner of the fence. Chester jumped off the front stoop, ran down to his butchered garden, and watched as the barbaric animal ambled, quite unconcerned, towards Mr. Allen’s garage. It trotted up to the single bay and pushed his way through the pet door. 18
“Christ almighty,” Chester said. “I don’t believe it!”19
He walked up to Mr. Allen’s front door and rang the bell. He waited, tapping his foot, scratching his head, feeling quite distraught. No answer. He rang again, and after a few seconds, began to knock, bang actually, on the paneled front door. Still no answer. “Well this just beats all,” he thought. 20
Chester had never really met Mr. Allen, his next door neighbor, but he had seen him coming and going a number of times. An average looking man of about 60, he appeared somewhat rugged, and Chester imagined that he had had a life filled with hard work. His house was plain and not particularly well maintained. It was obvious that he did not have the same sense of pride in his home that Chester did. Although he had heard barking on occasion, Chester had never seen the enormous canine before, and hadn’t realized that Mr. Allen owned a dog. Now it all made sense to him, and he realized that this animal was the culprit all along in the disfiguration of his garden. He had been allowed to wander, and wander right onto Chester’s turf is what he had done. “This was unacceptable,” thought Chester. He left the garden the way it was as proof of what the dog had done, and returned to work. 21
Feeling agitated was putting it mildly. Chester accomplished nothing that afternoon, and even made some incorrect entries, as his mind struggle to stay on task. All he could think about was that dog, and what it had done to his garden. He would go directly to speak with Mr. Allen when he got home and straighten this mess out.22
Chapter 223
As Chester arrived home that afternoon he noticed that Mr. Allen’s pick-up truck was parked in the driveway. He parked his car, and went directly over to his neighbor’s house. He felt his agitation peak as he passed by the damaged garden bed. He walked up Allen’s driveway, down his walkway, and up to the front door. Ringing it twice, he waited patiently.After what seemed to be an unreasonable amount of time the door opened. Mr. Allen stood in the doorway eating a sandwich. He said nothing. Chester just looked at him, an awkward pause filling the air. Finishing his bite, Mr. Allen looked directly at Chester.24
“Yeah? Can I help you?” he asked, obviously not recognizing his next door neighbor.25
Chester was flustered. “Yes, I’m your neighbor, Chester Ludlow.” Chester felt that he should shake hands or something. Another awkward pause.26
“Oh...yeah...hi. What’s up?” Mr. Allen said, indifferent to the news.27
Chester felt a little intimidated by his neighbor’s attitude.28
“Well, I just wanted to mention that we have a problem with your dog,” Chester said, getting right to the point.29
“Sergeant? Where is he?” asked Allen, looking back and forth in the front yard, as if the dog was there somewhere.30
“I’m not sure where your dog is at this moment, sir, but he has been digging holes in my yard.” Chester expected shock or an immediate apology.31
“Oh…, yeah,” said Mr. Allen, a chuckle in his voice. “He loves to dig.”32
That was it. No ‘sorry’, no shock. Mr. Allen just stood there eating his sandwich.33
“Mr. Allen, right?” Chester asked. 34
“Joe…call me Joe,” he said, still eating. Chester softened a little at his congeniality.35
“Okay, Joe, your dog has apparently been going into my yard during the day and digging large holes in my rose bed. Right there,” Chester pointed, “just on the other side of the fence there.”36
Joe Allen leaned out a little and glanced in the direction that Chester had pointed.37
“How do you know it’s my dog?” he finally said, a little defensive now.38
“I saw him.” exclaimed Chester.39
“Yeah? When?” challenged Mr. Allen.40
“Mr. Allen…Joe, I came home for lunch today and I saw your dog digging a hole in the garden and tearing up my plants. The damage is still there…would you like to take a look?” 41
“Not really,” he said. “There are other dogs in the neighborhood you know.”42
Now Chester was shocked. Did Mr. Allen think that Chester was lying? Was he denying that his dog was the menace?43
“Joe,” Chester said, “I saw your dog, Sergeant, digging and pulling at the plants. When I yelled to him to stop, he walked off and I watched as he went in through the pet door in your garage.”44
“Have any pictures?” Allen challenged.45
“Pictures? Of course I don’t have pictures, it just happened. It didn’t occur to me to take pictures.”46
“Well then, I guess we can’t be sure it was my dog. Can we?”47
Chester was stupefied. 48
“Joe, I’m telling you, I witnessed your dog demolishing a part of my garden. I was standing at my front window and I saw…”49
“Hey,” Allen cut him off, “listen bud. I didn’t see it, nobody else saw it, right? So unless you got some kind of proof, I think this case is closed.” Allen tilted his head with a quick nod, brows raised, dismissing the accusation. “Now I’m sorry about your flowers,” he said, “but I gotta go.” He backed into the doorway, and firmly shut the door.50
Chester stood there in total disbelief. He felt disoriented. Should he knock again? How could this man deny what Chester had seen with his own two eyes? Chester backed off the stoop, still staring at the door. “My God,” he thought, “this was unbelievable.” Shaking his head in open-mouthed wonder, he started back towards his house. He walked around the end of his fence and stopped, gazing at the damage done by his neighbor’s animal. He spent the next hour repairing the damage. He was sure that his prize American Beauty would not live through this. The plant had been utterly destroyed, as if it had been prey, captured by the dog. When he had repaired the garden as best he could, he assembled a fence about two feet high with some wire fencing that he used to place around fledging plants. He just had enough to make it to the end of the bed. He secured the four-foot sections carefully with binding wire and made sure that the fencing would stand securely. He didn’t think the dog would bash through the fence to get at his plants. He couldn’t be that malicious. 51
Chester went inside and made himself dinner. With the music playing, and his stomach full of food, he started to unwind. He had to let go of this thing with the dog. So what if he had a real asshole for a neighbor. He never really had to speak with him anyway. Hopefully, with that new fencing in place, his garden would be safe. He sat down to watch a little TV. It helped to take his mind off other things. Before he realized it, it was 10 o’clock. Time to call it a day. He only hoped that tomorrow would bring better things.52
He woke to the raucous sound of the backyard neighbor’s TV. He often kept his bedroom window open during the summer months, and it looked out on the back yard. The TV in the neighbor’s house was so loud it sounded like it was in his bedroom. He got up and shut the window, which diminished the sound. Grumbling with irritation, he went about his morning routine. He left the house at 8:45 AM, and all was well in his beloved garden. He planned on coming home during lunch just to check on things. 53
Work was extraordinarily busy. His company had taken on two new clients, so there was a mountain of new data to work with. He was nervous though, and kept checking his watch. By 12:30 PM he still hadn’t taken a break. 54
By one o’clock he was ravenous. He decided that he needed to have his lunch break even though he might not get through all this work by the end of the day. He got up to leave without even closing down his computer. Heading out the door, he ignored the plea from Mrs. Lowry to sign out. He got into his car and drove home. When he arrived at his house, his worst fears were confirmed. The garden was demolished. The fence had been pulled away, and several plants were pulled out of the ground. Dirt was piled up in places, and strewn out onto the grass. Chester stared, flabbergasted. He looked over at Mr. Allen’s house. His truck was in the driveway. Feeling angry, and justified, Chester stormed over to Mr. Allen’s door. He knocked furiously, then rang the bell repeatedly. He heard the grumble from inside. “Hold on, hold on, I’m coming.”55
Joe Allen opened the door and stood there in his robe. With a couple days worth of beard growth on his face, it looked like he had just gotten up. 56
“What is it now, neighbor?” he asked, an impatient, sarcastic tone to his voice. 57
Trying to remain calm, Chester ignored his curt greeting. “I’m not sure if you realize it, but your dog has been in my garden again,” he said.58
Joe rolled his eyes, and sighed. “Look…uh…what’s your name again?”59
“Chester. Chester Ludlow.”60
“Look, Chester, I’ve been here all morning and my dog hasn’t been out once. It must be someone else’s dog. So unless you have proof that Sergeant did it, there’s nothin’ to talk about.” 61
Chester was distraught. This guy was outright lying. 62
“Joe, you don’t really…”63
“Mr. Allen. Call me Mr. Allen.” Oh, it’s back to Mr. Allen now? This was going to get worse before it got better, Chester was sure.64
“Mr. Allen, I think you are being unfair about this. I know it’s your dog doing the damage.”65
“Yeah, well listen, Ludlow, you just go on back to your little garden. What’s so special about those roses anyway? You a flower buff or something?”66
“Okay,” Chester thought, “this man is a total ignoramus.” He would get nowhere talking to him. He turned and walked away, hearing the door slam behind him. He went into his house and called the police. 67
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The police advised him that he should try talking to his neighbor. Chester explained the problem. After a long conversation, in which the police tried to explain that there was nothing they could do, they agreed to send a patrolman out. 69
By now, Chester had been at lunch for 45 minutes. At exactly 2 PM, a patrol car showed up and parked in Mr. Allen’s driveway. The officer got out and went to the front door. Chester couldn’t see what was happening, but he waited until he saw the officer walk back, past his patrol car and down to the bottom of the drive. He came around the fence, looked at the damaged garden, then walked up to Chester’s front door. Chester opened it before he knocked.70
“So, what did he say?” Chester asked, anticipating satisfaction.71
“Mr. Ludlow, right?” 72
“Yes, yes, Chester Ludlow.”73
“Mr. Ludlow,” the patrolman went on, “Mr. Allen denies that his dog had anything to do with the damage to your garden.”74
“That’s absurd,” exclaimed Chester, “I saw him digging in the bed yesterday. I saw him with my own two eyes.”75
“Sir, do you have pictures or any witnesses?”76
“No, I don’t have any pictures,” Chester sighed. “I didn’t have time to get my camera. Besides, I didn’t think I would need proof. Why would I make something like that up?”77
“Well, Mr. Allen denies that it was his dog. Unless we have some kind of proof, it’s just your word against his. There’s nothing we can do.”78
“Well that’s just great,” exclaimed Chester, his voice raising slightly. “So I just accept that my neighbor’s dog is vandalizing my property?”79
“Either get some proof, or try to work it out with him.”80
Chester rubbed the back of his neck, sighing with irritation. 81
“Fine, fine. I’ll deal with it. Thanks for nothing,” he said bluntly.82
“Sir, I’m sorry,” said the patrolman. “My name is Officer Rand if you should need to contact me in the future.”83
The officer drove off, leaving Chester standing by his ravaged garden bed. He was already a half hour late for work. He left the garden as it was and drove back to the office, wolfing down a sandwich on the way.84
The rest of his day was miserable. He couldn’t concentrate. He was short tempered, and he still wasn’t sure what to do about the problem with the miscreant next door, and his delinquent animal.85
By 5:30 he was too tired to work anymore. He packed up his things and headed home. He was became a little less agitated as the fresh air filling his lungs. He took ten deep breaths, willing himself to calm down. Feeling a bit more resolved he turned down his street, and noticed Allen’s brutish dog trotting off the street up to his owner’s garage. By the time Chester had gotten to his driveway, the animal had disappeared in through the pet door. “God damned animal,” Chester thought as he pulled into his drive. He jammed on his brakes, tires screeching as he came to an abrupt stop.86
“What the fuck?” Chester shouted. “I don’t believe this!”87
The entire bed of roses, from one end to the other was dug up. It looked like a construction site. All the plants had been dislodged, dirt was everywhere, and the fence was completely pulled down. Chester was livid. He immediately went inside and called the police. 88
Asking for patrolman Rand, he was put on hold for three minutes, during which he stewed. “The police would have to do something about this” he thought.89
“Officer Rand here,” a voice came on over the line. 90
“Yes, Officer Rand, this is Chester Ludlow, over on Timber Lane. You were at my house this afternoon to look into the problem I am having with my neighbors dog.”91
“Right, I remember. What can I do for you?”92
“Well, I just got home from work and it seems that Mr. Allen’s dog has been in my garden again. He has virtually destroyed it. I don’t know what to do.”
Chester waited for a moment while there was a brief pause. 93
“Sir, I told you there was nothing we could do to help you.”94
“But Officer,” Chester pleaded, “the dog has completely ruined my garden. This is vandalism pure and simple. Can’t you help with that?”95
“Mr. Ludlow, I have known Joe Allen and his dog for many years. We have hunted and fished together many times, and I know from experience that Sergeant would not do such a thing.”96
Oh my God, Chester thought. So that was it. Joe Allen was friends with the police, and they were siding with him. This was a travesty. Was there no way out for him?97
“Sir,” the officer continued, “ I suggest you put up a larger fence, or take the garden out if it is presenting a problem.”98
“Presenting a problem,” Chester screamed. “The neighbor’s dog is the problem. This is ridiculous that you won’t do anything about it.”99
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ludlow, but unless you have evidence that the dog was the culprit, there’s nothing we can do.”100
“Fine. And for this I pay taxes.” Chester barked. He slammed the receiver down.101
What was he going to do? His neighbor was totally unreasonable. The police wouldn’t help at all. He was not about to let a thoughtless next-door-neighbor, and his primitive pet, bully him around. He had to do something. 102
Chester spent the evening listening to music, mulling over his predicament. By the time he went to sleep he had hatched a plan that would deal with the canine offender and teach his master a lesson.
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Chapter 3Chester woke the next day, much earlier than normal, but instead of his usual routine, he donned his work clothes. He needed some time to take care of the little problem that had invaded his peaceful existence.105
He had a cup of coffee, then went outside to his garden. It was still somewhat dark outside, and the soft sounds of birds awaking floated through the trees. Chester breathed in the cool, fresh morning air. Looking sadly at the pillaged plot of soil, he went about the work of repair. He couldn’t restore the small patch of land to it’s original condition, but that was okay for now. Besides, he was pretty sure that the rogue hound from next door, with the apparent approval of his owner, would be back to savage the area again. Ironically, this was what Chester Ludlow was hoping.106
After Chester had cleaned up the garden as best he could, he went back inside. It was still quite early, and it seemed that most people in the neighborhood were still not up and about. He made himself a nice breakfast, feeling relaxed and self-assured. He was going to take care of the dog problem himself. He went to the garage and found a small metal rod that he had used in propping up a small sapling the previous spring. He took out a metal file from his small tool chest, and laying out a piece of paper, he began to file the rod, catching the metal filings on the paper. He was at it for about 20 minutes when he finally decided that he had enough of the metal scrapings for his purpose. 107
He carefully cleaned the file with a wire brush, and returned it to the tool box. He put the metal rod in his car, under the driver seat. Folding the paper, being careful not to lose any of he filings, he went into the kitchen. 108
He placed the paper holding the metal filings on the counter. This would definitely do the trick, he thought. He spent the next half hour happily cooking at the stove. When he had finished, he showered and dressed for work. 109
Chester backed his car down the driveway, stopping near the end. He got out and stood by his beloved garden, hands on hips, making a show of his despair. Then, casually, he bent down to smooth out a small area. Just as he was finishing, he placed a small gift for the pooch next door, just to show that there were no hard feelings. He got in his car, backed out of the driveway, and drove off to work. He wasn’t quite sure, but he thought he noticed the curtains in Mr. Allen’s front window shift as he drove by. 110
His day was uneventful. He was able to catch up on the preceding day’s work, and took his usual half-hour for lunch. When 5 PM rolled around, he calmly closed down his computer, cleaned up his desk, and left his small office. He felt relaxed as he took the elevator to the main lobby and headed outside. He said goodbye to Mrs. Lowry, and complimented her on her new hairdo. 111
“Thank you,” she replied. “Nice of you to notice.” What a delightful young man, thought Mrs. Lowry.112
Chester drove home taking the longer, scenic route. He was in no hurry. He stopped at the convenience store to pick up some things. As he walked into the store he tossed the old iron rod into the dumpster that was parked in the lot outside. He purchased the few things he needed, and then drove leisurely back to his humble home on Timber Lane. 113
As Chester drove into the driveway, he paused for a moment to look at the rose garden he had worked so hard to create. As he expected, it was pretty well torn up. Not as badly as the previous day, but it was clear that the beastly pet from next door had again raped his innocent rose garden. He looked down at the hole where his American Beauty had stood and noticed that his little culinary gift had been consumed. An eye for an eye, he thought. He calmly pulled his car up the driveway, and parked it in front of the garage. He walked down to the garden, and attempting to maintain pretense, threw his arms in the air, kicked some dirt, and let out a few choice curses. He shook his arm at his neighbor’s house and went inside.114
He made himself a nice dinner. After he had cleaned up, he put on some Mozart Opera Overtures, and settled into his favorite chair to read. At 10 PM, he got ready for bed. He shut off all the lights and opened the kitchen window a bit, following his nightly routine. He turned on the air conditioner in his bedroom, got into bed and turned off the light. He was tired but contented.115
He started to think about one of the Mozart Overtures he had just heard, playing the music over and over in his head, becoming more and more sleepy. As he started to drift off to sleep he barely noticed the soft cries and yelps from the yard next door. Chester fell peacefully to sleep as the hum of the air conditioner disguised all sounds outside his room.116
He awoke the next morning feeling well rested. He made himself breakfast to the sounds of Amadeus. He had an extra cup of coffee, and was sitting on his back patio enjoying his last few minutes before work. Suddenly, a cacophonous wave of noise emanating from his back neighbor’s house pierced his serenity. He was about to ask them to turn it down, when he realized that he had to leave for work. “Some people have no consideration” he thought. He got into his car and backed out of the driveway. As he drove off, he glanced at his garden. If he worked hard today he might be able to get off early. Then he could spend the rest of the afternoon in his garden, and once again bring it back to life. 117
He managed to get off work an hour early. On the way home he stopped at a local nursery and picked up some top soil, mulch, fertilizer, and a few new choice rose bushes. This time he would plant a gorgeous Joseph’s Coat, which produced beautiful orange, red and yellow blossoms. As he pulled onto Timber Lane he noticed a small crowd at the base of Mr. Allen’s driveway. In the driveway was a paramedic’s van. Curious, he thought. Chester carefully drove by and pulled into his driveway. He walked down to the road and up to the group of people, some of whom he recognized as his neighbors. He spoke to Mr. Pratt who lived across the street.118
“What’s going on. Is Mr. Allen all right?”119
“He’s okay. His dog isn’t though. He called the paramedics because he didn’t know what else to do,” responded Pratt.120
“Why,” asked Chester, “what happened?”121
“Apparently the dog is sick or something. They think he might have eaten something that made him sick. I spoke with one of the paramedics earlier. The dog couldn’t even get up. He was coughing up a lot of blood. They tried to move him but he yelped so bad they stopped. He’s going to die very soon, they said. His stomach is all chewed up from something. Shards of a bone they think.”122
Chester nodded, showing faint surprise as Mr. Pratt told him what had happened to Mr. Allen’s dog. 123
“Wow, that’s too bad,” said Chester, feigning sympathy.124
“Yeah, I guess. That dog was a real nuisance though. He was always getting into the trash out behind my house. Spilling garbage all over the place. I caught him one time. Yelled at him to get away. That dog wasn’t scared a bit. Just looked at me, then peed on the garbage pail before he left.” Mr. Pratt looked at Chester. “Weird thing was, I went over to Allen’s house to talk to him about it.” Pratt chuckled a little. “Allen asked me if I had proof that it was his dog. Asked me if I took pictures. You believe that?”125
“No…that’s pretty strange” said Chester. 126
“Yeah. Some jerk, that Allen. I had to buy a storage bin to keep my trash pails in. To be honest, I’m happy that dog’s gone.” They stood there looking at the house as the paramedics came out. Chester walked up to speak with one of them who was putting the gear away.127
“What’s the story with the dog?” Chester asked.128
“We had to put him down. He was in terrible discomfort. Must have eaten something he shouldn’t have. Tore up his insides real bad. Nothing we could do.”129
“Yeah…yeah,” Chester nodded. “Probably for the best.”130
He walked back down the driveway and around the fence. He stopped. “Well”, he thought with a smile, “looks like I won’t be having any more problems with my garden.” He planned to start putting it back together again, but figured he would have a quick cup of coffee first. He heated a cup in the microwave and took it out back to relax for a few minutes before he got to work. Sitting in his chaise lounge chair he stared at the sky. Pure blue and not a cloud in sight. What a day this was turning out to be. He closed his eyes and relaxed, reveling in this peaceful setting. Almost asleep, he was jarred awake by the blasting TV from the back neighbor. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He stood and walked to the fence and peered over. The sliding glass door to the neighbor’s kitchen was wide open. The television must be right near the door because it could be heard so clearly. 131
“Hello,” Chester called. He waited. No response.132
“Hello,” he shouted. There was a slight pause between the commercials and Chester jumped right in. “Hello,” he shouted as loud as he could. 133
An elderly woman appeared at the door. She looked to be about 75 or 80 years old. She was partly bent over, with thick glasses and a cane that kept her up. She looked at Chester, an expression of aversion on her face. 134
“Excuse me,” Chester said, “but could you turn down your TV a little? It’s kind of loud.”135
“What’s that?” said the old lady.136
“I said, could you please turn your TV down.” Chester shouted this time, trying to get over the blast of the television set. “It’s very loud.”137
“I need it loud.” she shouted back. “I don’t hear so good.”138
“Well, could you at least shut your door?” He asked.139
“I need the air,” she barked, “shut yours!” With that she turned and walked back into her kitchen, leaving the door open and the television set at full.140
Chester backed away from the fence. “What a cantankerous old bag,” he thought. 141
He walked back towards his house. As he picked up his coffee he thought, “I wonder if she likes brownies?”142
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