The Boys

So if TBK (That Bitch Katrina) stole my voice, did losing the Pug return it to me? Suddenly, the endless noise in my head is gone. It's as though someone turned off the white noisemaker. Now all I can hear are my words. I ride my bike or walk the park and I write in my head. I drive the car and write endlessly. I do my work and long for a moment of peace to write. And life seems suddenly seems to be intent on bringing me an endless supply of material.

Yesterday I pulled several items from my freezer intent on making more room. I even went so far as to invite some friends over for dinner. My niece and 2 friends accepted. Problem is I didn't go into the kitchen to cook until after 5 and discovered my chicken had not defrosted. So I picked up the phone and ordered a rather unhealthy dinner of pizza. My guests arrived and we dined al fresco on my front porch, enjoying a rather spectacular evening.

Officer Friendly arrived home while we sat out and noted that we had the right idea. My guests pointed out how delightful he was and wondered if perhaps I had exaggerated my stories of his aloofness. "No," I assured them. "It makes me all that much angrier when I see how incredibly nice he is capable of being!" I then went on to tell them of my new plan.

A few years ago a friend and I spent a wonderful fall weekend in Ogunquit, Maine. Every evening we'd walk the Marginal Way, a lovely path along the harbor into town. "Watch," I told my friend. "Yankees hate talking to strangers." A couple neared us and I locked eyes with them, smiling broadly, "HI!" My friend laughed as the strangers looked startled and a bit frightened, but they did respond back with a hi. From that moment on, every evening we would walk saying hello to everyone we met. Most treated us like escaped lunatics. By the last night my friend declared, "I'm too tired to be friendly" and we walked alone not meeting glances.

This is what I planned to do with Officer Friendly. Get in his face and kill him with friendliness. They all laughed at my diabolical plan.

Later that evening as we watched "The Office" someone knocked at my door. A gentleman who is building a home directly behind mine had stopped to update me on some activity. Seems the construction sight and house has been broken into some 14 times. The most recent was the night before and the cops seemed to believe the perpetrators climbed the fence and ran through my yard. The guy kept telling me to take care, he worried as he knew I had a little dog. I gulped and everyone looked at each other. I let is pass. He went on to say how cute my little dog was and I needed to be careful. Finally I admitted my little dog was no longer with us. My friends rolled their eyes and looked around for a kleenex box, but I maintained composure. Finally the guy left leaving me a bit unsettled. There seemed too much information shared with perfect strangers.

Today is another unreal day in Houston. The weather is in the low 70's, no humidity and crystal blue skies. How can I possibly stay in? So I set up my computers outside and this morning I drank my coffee and answered emails and calls. As I worked Officer Friendly came out with his two German Shepherds. They turned away from me and proceeded to play fetch on the other side of his house. Work forgotten I sat and watched them play. Officer Friendly turned once, noted my staring and went back to their game. I could not stop staring. I was being rude, but with a heavy heart, I found myself unable to look away. I was a starving person staring at a juicy cooked steak.

Finally Officer Friendly turned and asked, "Is he out there with you?"

The pug was always sitting on the front porch with me. I know Officer Friendly's dogs are not good with other dogs.

Sadly, I shook my head. "I had to put him down last week. I'm sorry that's why I was watching y'all play. I miss him." Tears stream down my face. Officer Friendly walks my way and I get up rushing to meet the dogs. I pet their wonderful heads and struggle not to hug them. I try and maintain control and Officer Friendly is...well...friendly. He talks on about how he understands, when he went to Iraq he sat and bawled like a baby thinking he'd never see "his boys" again. "The guys at the precinct rode me, but they don't understand they are our children." I weep even more as he tells me the story of when he came home and how the dogs greeted him.

And right there in my front yard, I decided I like this guy. Maybe he was being rude to me, maybe he wasn't. Anyone who loves his dogs this much is ok in my book. Period.

I go on to ask him, (now what will I call him?) if the builder stopped in to speak with him last night. Did he know about the break in? He stares at me with cynical eyes and remarks the problem is the guy is taking a year to build the house, and he sounds a bit flaky to him. I admit that I had my concerns, it just didn't seem to fit. We wrap it up, he goes inside and I sit and work.

Minutes later a police car pulls up in front of the vacant house next to me. And then another pulls up and blocks my driveway. I smile and say hello as cops get out their vehicles and start walking around the vacant lot. Officer Friendly is out in a flash, greeting the police by name. They spend the next 15 or so minutes talking and walking around. Ok, there is no work for me as I watch a third car pull up. Finally, they all drive away but as Officer Friendly walks to me, the UPS guy stops with a package and they walk together to the neighbor across the street. UPS leaves and Officer Friendly and the neighbor stand outside talking. I decide to walk over and find out what's up. It's as I suspected, the builder reported the break in and they are checking out the vacant house for vandalism. Officer Friendly tells me the consensus is the guy is nuts. He told them he heard as much from me. (I'm not sure I was that certain.) We chat for a moment and I head back to work.

Hours later I'm back on the porch tyring to finish a report. A blue Ford Taurus pulls up in front of my house. A guy in his 50's or so, longish hair pulled back in a vest looking like perhaps an ex-hippie or biker sings out, "A glorious good afternoon to you!"

I smile and ask what can I do for him.

"Does the bag-pipe playing officer still live in the house next door?" I admit there is a police officer who lives there, "With 2 German Shepherds?" Yes, I admit that is him but I wasn't aware he played the bagpipes.

"Yes, he's in the color guard and he plays an "Amazing Grace" that makes tombstones weep." The guy tells me he used to live down the street with "Vicki" and now lives in West Texas. He's now in Houston for 6 months and was just checking in.

No - I don't know Vickie. Yes - this is all more information than I expected from a total stranger.

So now I know much more about Officer Friendly than I ever expected. And I am prepared to say I might have been wrong. And even if I wasn't wrong, what does it really matter? All I really want from him is for him to bring the boys my way.