Neighborhood Watch

The azaleas along the parkway were well on their way to full bloom last week - I could see them clearly through the heavy mist of unexpected snow that was falling - big, wet flakes tumbling out of the sky as if shaken from a box of powered detergent by invisible hands. School was let out and the children - there are always hundreds who have never seen such a sight - were sent home in awe and delight. It melted before hitting the ground, of course, but still it fell all afternoon and was declared a miracle. The small brown dog was left unimpressed and unwilling to venture out into this strange weather but the black dog was joyous, running in circles in the yard, barking and trying her best to catch a snowflake, hardly knowing which way to jump. To her, everything is a small miracle to be welcomed and explored, chased, captured or cornered and she knows no fear or apprehension. She is curious, adventurous, filled with the wonder of the world and she revels in it all. Back inside, she resisted my efforts to towel her off, preferring a vigorous shake of her thick coat and a roll on the carpet before taking up her post at the window from which she keeps an eye on the street. She is my own personal neighborhood watch, alert to even the slightest street noise, any car door opening or closing, any sound from a child, every footstep and voice. She has only one speed, and regrettably, no off switch. She is the energizer bunny of continuous running, 18 pounds of pure, speed driven movement, relentlessly on guard and poised for attack, a mix of whirling dervish, cheetah, and perpetual motion machine. She never slows down, never paces herself, never takes a breather. She has terrorized untold pizza delivery drivers, postal employees, fed ex drivers, unsuspecting joggers, road crews, the trash men,
the water department, the meter reader, cable installers, and her fair share of Jehovah's Witnessess - this last with no rebuke, I admit.

When the electrician arrived to work on the ceiling fans, she raced for the front door and hit it at full speed before he'd even had a chance to knock. He took a step backward in surprise and dropped his tool kit, reached for the iron railing to break his fall just as she charged a second time and as the screen gave way and she broke through, he lost his balance and tumbled over the railing and into a heap in the crepe myrtle. By the time I got there, she had him backed up against the latticework, and she was rooted just a foot or two away, teeth bared and snarling in between triumphant barks. I snatched her up and away from him and held her mouth shut, trying to apologize and not laugh all at the same time at the sight of this unhappy workman, a big man, well over six foot and easily 200 pounds, lying in the dirt and picking blossoms out of his hair, searching for his tools, his cap, and his dignity. He refused to enter the house until she was kenneled and he went about his work nervously and surly, finishing and leaving with a scowl.

He wasn't the first and probably will not be the last stranger to tangle with the black dog. I have often suspected her size plays a role in her attitude - being a small dog, she is often not taken seriously and she compensates with frenzied fury, determined to have the upper hand in every situation. Not unlike myself in certain situations.