Neighborhood Encounter

THE ENCOUNTER 7-10-12 This morning as I drove my car down the street on my way to work, and while it was still very dark and very quiet, I almost ran over a chicken. I had recently gotten up, showered, shaved, dressed, and performed the usual routine one would expect any reasonable person would be expert at, having done it so many times but which, sadly, I was not. Many times, however, it amazed me, much later on in the day of course, how I manage to leave the house so early in the morning fully clothed and with some semblance of a coherent and competent person. Just because I have somehow managed it for so many years does not make me, nor anyone else for that matter, an expert. Truth be told, I may be an expert but, not having ever, ever, been fully awake to be a reliable judge I will decline the honor. Anyway, still yawning and trying to get some oxygen into my head to clear my mind, and wondering if I had turned off the coffee maker before going to the car in the garage, or if I had closed the garage door after driving out of it, my foot suddendly pressed on the brakes and my car came to a screeching halt! Having had my mind at that very moment occupied with something other than driving I was shocked to see the reason for this sudden and unexpected stop. A chicken. As I had to blink several times to make sure I was not mistaken, let me say again, it WAS a chicken. All became very still. The world seemed to pause as if wondering what would happen next. The chicken and I just stared at each other. There appeared to be a very long time in which my mind, still trying to take in oxygen, now faced the difficult task of understanding what was taking place. I don’t know about the chicken but, I wasn’t quite sure of what to do next. It, the chicken, I sensed, understood this and allowed me a moment to clear my mind so as not to do something foolish or maybe even dangerous. At that moment I felt grateful to the chicken for this momentary respite. My breathing and the beating of my heart, which before had been erratic and labored, slowed and I started to relax. My foot was still on the brakes. I slowly put the car in park and then released the brakes. I may have imagined this but I thought I heard a sigh of relief come from the lips of the chicken. Eventually I began to understand the predicament I had allowed myself to be in and felt compelled to act as a gentleman would when in public and faced with an embarrassing situation. I smiled at the chicken and shrugged my shoulders in a 'mea culpa' sort of way. I was ready to part ways and to continue unto whatever the new day had in store for each of us. The chicken just stood it’s ground in front of my car and continued to stare at me. I waited. And I waited. There was an undinable change of mood in the air. As my newly found awareness sunk in, my eyes focused more closely on the chicken. I was was not prepared for what took place next. The chicken suddendly flung its arms up in the air and started making noices I could not understand! It was bobbing its head and simultaneously stomping its feet in a sharp staccato, tap, tap, tap, agitated, and very angry way. It continued stomping and squacking and circling itself. It became apparent to me that this chicken had somehow become completely unhinged! It was hysterical. I dare say, insane! My car was still running, the chicken was squacking and there was the sound of its very sharp claws tap, tap, tapping very rapidly on the pavement as it circled itself as its head kept bobbing and making all that racket. I expected the neighbors any minute now to come and see what all the commotion this early was all about. I dind't know what to say. And the noice! This sudden and unexpected change had caught me completely off guard! I was startled! Where a moment ago I felt we were both being reasonable in what was surely an unexpected encounter and therefore nothing premeditated, and certainly no insult or injury intended, the accusatory glare I now faced unsettled me. Nay! I felt threatened. Subconsciously I made sure my doors were locked. I looked around hoping there was a witnesses to what was taking place. Or, someone that might be of help if I needed it. Nothing. I was completely alone. I stared at my now adversary. My hands became clamy. I became aware of my beating heart. We stared at each other. I could see that neither of us was going to give or receive any quarter! This was now a standoff! How did this happened? Obviously, it was no longer a simple or innocent encounter. I have been living and driving down this street, at this hour, under these very same conditions for years. I know my neighbors. That is, as well as anyone can be expected to know their neighbors, which is not well at all if one works the hours I do and only see them, no conversation, on week-ends, but only when their lawn needs attention which is when I, sometimes a little late, ok, many times very late, notice my own grass has overgrown. We also sometimes see each other and wave ‘hi’ to each other, again, no conversation, on garbage day when everybody, many of us with overdue and overflowing cans, come out as the truck makes itself known by the loud sound of it’s engine and the banging of the cans as they are emptied and dropped loudly in front of their respective, and sometimes not, houses. Knowing my neighbors also means I have made other observations as well: I have come to not be surprised by the elderly couple who walk their small Terrier on Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays mornings. I gather they also venture out early mornings on the weekends but I am not paid to be out and about on Saturdays or Sunday mornings. So I’m not. They were of course not out this morning today being Tuesday. But on those days when I do see them together there is something soothing, peaceful, and calming in their slow deliberate pace as they follow their small dog. Notice I said 'follow'. Even though the husband holds on to the leash I suspect the Terrier insists he do this so as to prevent him and his wife from getting lost and unable to find their way back home. It also seems to know that neither of them, husband nor wife, can walk very fast so the Terrier maintains a pace that I would venture a doctor would recommend as a healthy form of exercise for a couple of their age, meaning very old. This slow and silent procession in the darkness adds to the serenity I imagine exists only inside a church. That in turn makes its such a touching scene that any thoughts of illness towards any other living thing melts away and surely makes us all feel one with the angels. . I As a matter of fact, unlike this uncivilized and foul chicken, that Terrier and I have come to an understanding. Mind you, it’s nothing we have discussed. I mean, I DON’T go around talking with inanimate objects or animals, although I believe they understand more than we give them credit for. That said, there is a shared look of respect when we, that Terrier and I, encounter each other on his/her early morning walks. I am sure his/her owners are not oblivious to our cordial nod and smile. He/she has its morning ritual and I have mine. It just happens that our morning ritual coincides several days a week. They are very protective of their companion. That old couple might not know how to get home without their guide but I sense they are keenly aware of anyone showing the slightest malicious thought to their companion. I suspect it would be prudent if I did not showed too much interest so as not raise any unintended suspicion. I am also familiar with the nurse who works nights and lives down the block and who sometimes forgets ( 2 times this month alone) to go INTO her gararge and simply parks outside and falls asleep at the wheel. Her name is Leslie. She told me that one early dawn when driving down the block on a day similar to today, and all the other days, I noticed headlights were on and the engine was running on a parked car on my side of the street and naturally, out of concern I stopped, approached cautiously, knocked on her driver side door and waited for a response but not before noticing a very pronunced heaving of her ample chest and the smell of alchohol pouring out thru the rolled down window which made it necessary, as I mentioned before, for me to knock on the actual door instead. I didn’t think it was appropriate, then or now, to actually touch her. Anyway, she has a dog that, I am assuming, she keeps in the garage, or maybe it simpy has access to it. It is a friendly dog. That is, it did not bark or threaten me when she, Lesley, responding to my now vigorous knocking, instinctively reached up and pressed on her garage door opener attached to the visor above her head and her dog ran out. Really, it hardly glanced at me by way of salutation which I may have taken offence at had I not noticed the urgency of his (or her) need to take care of its 'business', which it did, as it promptly reached the nearest bush with what I may have imagine was an audible sigh of relief. I watched somewhat embarrassed for the poor thing since there was no where for it to hide and I HAD to keep an eye on it or risk being liable for its escape or a worst fate. As I watched, and waited for Leslie to fully recover, I began to feel sorry for this poor dog and the vulnerable position it was currently in. As it squatted there, silently, and alone, there was something stoic and not with a little pride in its resolve to not dishonor itself in front of the watchful eye of what it must have imagined was the whole world or certainly, the whole neighborhood. So, it would certainly be held in my favor were I to petition a court, that this chicken had little right of way in MY neighborhood and I would offer abundant proof, such as I just mentioned, to support my cause. However, at the moment I had to deal with the fact that this usurper was causing me a great deal of aggravation and discomfort. THE LITTLE TERRIER COMES OUT AND CHASES THE CHICKE AWAY. WHEN I RETURN THE TERRIER TO THE OLD COUPLE THEY INVITE ME TO HAVE LUNCH SOMETIME. THEY SERVE CHICKEN SANDWICH. THE TERRIER AND I TURN AND LOOK AT EACH OTHER.