Part 4 of 4
Great Neighbors (Them, not us)
The house on 30th street had great neighbors on every side.
To the east were the Hamptons. Bob and Bobbie. Having two people in the same home with the letters ‘B-O-B’ in their names didn’t even faze us.
We’d just come from neighbors that were crazy about the name Don. Seriously invested in the name. This invested:
- Don the dad
- Don Jr. the oldest son
- Dawn Lynn the oldest daughter
- And then the 2nd son named Donnie that they called Sonny
What you would label as committed to the name Don. Four ‘Dons’ in one home, so two ‘Bobs’, not a problem for us. And to be honest, in our home we would soon have two Chris’s. Chris the dad and Christopher Jordan the soon to be born youngest son.
Anyway, Bob and Bobbie were great. They’d had an addition built onto to back of their home, so we considered them very well-to-do. So well-to-do that they had an above ground pool. It called not only to Chris and me, but also to the boys and, unfortunately to one of our dogs.
Enter our dog Simba. We were blessed with her shortly after moving into the house on 30th. She was a yellow lab, and she was awesome. To this day, when I dream, it’s usually Simba who is the dog who is represented in my dreams.
We lost her some fourteen years ago when she was about fifteen years old. She had a wonderful life and made our lives, and even our neighbor’s lives, so much more interesting.
However, Simba could not be contained. She just couldn’t. She could climb any fence you put in front of her. The fence at the back of our yard (on the Watson Park side) had barbed wire on the top. The regular fence was six-foot or so, and the barbed wire probably added another one to two feet. I kid you not. Nothing says, come play in our park like barbed wire.
However, the barbed wire fence could not contain Simba. She would climb it, barbed wire, and all. Once, we were gone during the evening and she climbed it. It was probably the 432nd time. Maybe the 433rd. But while climbing it that time she caught her belly on the wire. We got home and found blood in a number of places. She had to have some eighteen stitches and the vet said (just like in the movies) one-quarter centimeter to the right and she would have hit a bad place and bled out (or something along those lines).
It shook us up really bad as Simba was so much a part of our family. But short of locking her in the house (which she’d chew up) or chaining her up, there was no stopping her. There were never any other injury incidences after that day (or before) which I am thankful for.
I know we should have done better. I know. But at that point in our lives, we allowed our dogs in and out of the house as they chose. We had a very active doggie door to the fenced back yard. And we did try numerous times to just keep her in the house.
Here is what our efforts earned us when we tried the ‘keep her in the house’ plan. She chewed through:
- A solid core wood door (at the bottom)
- A metal storm door (at the bottom)
- A fiberglass garage door (at the bottom)
- A wood door jamb (about half-way up and don’t ask because I don’t even know)
- Door weatherstripping (pulled the entire strip out and chewed the snot out of it)
She was what you call – committed. And truthfully (and obviously) we did not commit the time to training her that today, we know we should have. But committed she was, and chewing was her response to being contained in the house.
And that does not include the toys, shoes, underwear, Tupperware, paper, clothes and one brand new pair of prescription sports googles that Jordan had just gotten. He can tell you a terrifying story of how parents (me) react when you leave your new prescription goggles out all night and the dog chews them up. My response scarred Baby Jordan for life. He still talks about the ‘sports goggle incident of ’94.’
However, for Simba in the first two years, everything was considered hers. We once heard a joke from some comedian that we applied to Simba and would use it when the kids complained about a toy getting chewed up. Chris’s go to response was ‘She’s got stuff of mine too!’
Lost your favorite toy? Tough. You know the drill. You want to save it; it goes in your toy box. Lose your favorite pair of shoes? For me this was a lesson it took me multiple times to learn. But it was the same answer – tough. Put them in your closet and shut the door if you want to keep them. Lose your driver’s license? Hmmm. That’s tough when it’s in a wallet on the table. But we were tough as well as what you might call unsympathetic, so the same answer goes. Tough. You want to keep your driver’s license, put it in your wallet on top of the fridge or in the roll top desk. You get my drift. Quasi unreasonable parents and one dog totally committed to not being contained. As Chris always would say, “justice is blind, but swift in our home.”
Simba was ours and we loved her to pieces. Chris. Myself. Jason and Jordan. We all were nuts about that little girl. Our niece Morgan was so in love with Simba and would just come over and lay with her in the middle of the floor cuddling. She actually did that with both of our dogs. We had two dogs at that time. Katie and Simba. Katie was a collie mix and she was sweet through and through and a good dog who never chewed and never ran off once we got to the house on 30th. Simba, not so much.
We appreciated that Katie had resisted the enormous amount of peer pressure that Simba exerted on her.
Katie didn’t climb the fence. Simba did. Katie didn’t chew up shoes. Simba did. Katie didn’t climb on the table to get food. Simba did.
Once we were sitting in the living room and Jason and I were watching as Simba carried a twelve-piece box of Popeyes Fried Chicken through the dining room and to the doggie door. She struggled, tilting her head this way and that to try to make it fit through the dog door (not unlike young Chris as an X during the tornado warnings in part 1 of our story). But as she walked through the dining room, she looked at me out of the corner of her eye.
Seriously. She didn’t turn her head, just slyly used her eyes (out of the corner of her eye) to see if I noticed her. I’ll be fully transparent here. I didn’t even know dogs COULD look at you out of the corner of their eyes. She kept her snout pointing forward but used her eyes. Kind of like she was saying ‘nothing to see here.’ Who knew dogs could do that? Well Simba could.
And she’s not worried about Chris. He’d always been 100% marshmallow concerning Simba. She played him like a fiddle and concerning Chris, that’s not an easy thing to accomplish.
She’s not worried about Jason. He’d open the door to help her out with her haul. He’s team Simba all the way.
She’s worried about me as I actually would put on pretenses of trying to make her a well-behaved dog. She knew this. So, she ignored the others and again, out of the corner of her eye looked to see if I see her.
I do.
Game on…..
I clamored to my feet, as I wanted to save at least some of the chicken that was left (probably only three or four pieces). Simba was on to me. She immediately dropped the box and tore into the lid. She managed to get two pieces before I could get to her.
We both are satisfied with the outcome and consider ourselves winners.
You may think I’m joking about the peer pressure that Simba used to influence other dogs? I am not.
One year we decided to go to Oregon for Thanksgiving to see my Aunt Ruthie (who is another story all together and a fantastic one at that). Trust me, the ocean is a-m-a-z-i-n-g to people who are seriously land-locked in Kansas. And this was our first big family vacation ever.
Before we go, we have to find somewhere for Simba to stay. This was, sadly, after Katie had passed and Simba was the only dog we had. She was probably ten or eleven at this point. We asked Chris’s parents to keep her but assured them if it was too much, we could put her in a kennel. We gave them all kinds of warnings before they answered, up to and including ‘you can’t leave her alone!’ Obviously, this would be a big commitment because we were going to be gone for five days. That meant one of them would have to be home with her at all times. Why? Because Simba refused to be contained in a house. As I’ve mentioned earlier, she’d try to chew her way out if she didn’t have a doggie door.
Being the good sports they are, they agreed.
But they didn’t listen. To be honest, I don’t blame them, I’d probably do the same. Who really needs to stay with a dog all the time? And Simba was deceiving. When your home with her, she’s a sweetheart. Doesn’t chew and wants to cuddle and is always part of whatever is going on. Really part of what is going on as in the middle of anything going on. Every Christmas Simba would lay right in the middle of the living room floor. Right in the middle. You’d have to step over her to give someone a gift. You’d have to step over her to throw the recently torn into wrapping paper into the big ‘trash box’ that was usually set to the side of the room. You’d have to step over her to go to the bathroom. Sometimes you’d have to step over her and one of my nieces (Morgan) as you could, again, often find her cuddled up with Simba and laying with her in the middle of the floor. Everyone loved Simba and she insinuated herself into every situation. Or I should say, into the middle of every situation and every room. Very much a part of our family. As long as you were home with her, she could be ‘trapped’ in the house. But leave the house and that sweet little yellow lab becomes ‘all bets are off’ dog. She. Wants. Out.
Chris’s parents decided one evening to go out for dinner. Mistake. Simba chewed partially through the interior portion of their door frame. We would have said ‘we told you so,’ but they had kept our dog, free of charge for five days, so we refrained.
This is Simba were talking about so there was insult to injury. Because Chris’s parents had learned their lesson (they are smart cookies) they did not leave Simba home alone again. That meant on Thanksgiving they had to take her with them to dinner at Chris’s sister house. I’m told Simba was very pleased to be invited and to attend the dinner.
That’s when they made their second mistake. Actually, it probably was their third mistake as agreeing to watch Simba in the first place was likely mistake number one. Anyway, when they arrived at Chris’s sister house, they put Simba out in the dog run with their dog. This is where we wanted to say to them ‘Didn’t we tell you not to try to contain her when you’re not with her?’ But again, we didn’t because they kept our dog, free of charge for five days. Does it seem as though I’ve said that before? Probably. It’s a theme.
So, they put the uncontainable Simba into a dog run with a dog who was a good boy. He, up until that point in his life, stayed in his little dog run. But Simba was not having any of it. I’m sure she checked out the situation, saw the fence was merely six-foot high and chain link fence to boot. Remember, Simba had been scaling six-foot cedar fences on the smooth side (non 2×4 stringer side) her entire life. So, what is chain link? Well, it’s a place to put little doggie paws while you climb the fence.
Not only did Simba climb out of the dog run and go to the door and demand to be let in (let’s be honest, if they hadn’t, she’d have chewed her way in from the outside), but she also taught their good boy how to climb it as well.
The result? They were unable to contain their good boy after that, until they put chain link across the top. She was peer pressure of the worst kind for their good boy.
When we picked her up, we were very serious and apologetic when we got the news of what she had done. But admittedly, we went home and laughed for a long time after that. Long. Time.
Simba was an untrained dog and so were her parents. Admittedly it’s 100% our fault she was one onery dog (that we were crazy in love with). I know there are no bad dogs, only bad dog parents. That was us.
And we have suspicions that she not only taught her new doggie friend how to climb out of that dog run, but we’re somewhat certain she also taught the other dog how to smoke cigarettes and play poker while she was there. Probably went so far as to teach their dog how to bluff with a two/seven off-suit. She was a tough, and smart cookie.
However, back to the pool that Bob and Bobbie (our neighbors) had. You’d forgotten about it haven’t you. Yes, I tend to meander… Anyway, concerning that pool, we were all attracted to it, but none more than Simba. Before the coveted pool went up, she would climb the fence over to the Watson Park side to go for a swim in the lake almost every summer night. And she’d come home wet and smelly.
So, on the north side of our backyard was that barbed wire fence we’ve already discussed. Every other side was a six-foot cedar fence. Now you would think that would keep one little Labrador retriever in the backyard. But no such luck. As mentioned earlier, that dog could scale that fence in one jump. Seriously. She’d grab the top with her paws pull herself over and she’d be gone. And she could climb the smooth side coming back. She had skills.
So, putting an above ground pool next door to a dog who thinks nothing of a six-foot cedar fence is like delivering a handwritten invitation. Well, invitation received, and Simba RSVP’d every summer night. I can remember at times during those summers when someone would ask ‘where’s Simba?’ Inevitably the answer was ‘at the pool.’
In all honesty, I really didn’t mind. For the first time ever, we didn’t have a flea problem. Simba was swimming in chlorinated water every day and that was taking care of the fleas. Now remember this was back before we had the really good flea stuff, that I’m so thankful is available today. But back then all you had were those collars that didn’t work that well and once they got wet were almost worthless. And remember whether it was in the lake or in the pool Simba was wet almost every night throughout the summer.
And she smelled good! That chlorine kept her clean and she smelled better during the lifetime of that pool than she ever did before or after.
But I felt required to put on the good neighbor ‘airs.’ Remember, I’m still operating under the pretense of making her a well-behaving dog. So, I’d make my weekly pilgrimage next door and talk to Bob and Bobbie and profusely apologize that Simba was swimming in their pool every night and attempt to give said pretense, that I was doing everything I could to contain her, short of actually blocking the doggy door of course.
And Bob and Bobbie were the best. Bobbie would say she understood and that it was okay. I’m sure she did want me to take care of it, and she probably was well aware of the fact that I was mostly just going through the motions. But she was such a good person, and she never made it an issue. Hence the title ‘Good Neighbors – Them, Not Us.’
Bob on the other hand was just hilarious! I can remember one day standing in their living room going through the same old pretenses, and Bob was listening as always. Bobbie was making the reassuring noises and statements, always willing to try to make me feel better. When I finally finished with my pretenses and Bobbie was done with her reassurances Bob had his say. ‘Let Simba be. It’s good that at least someone gets use of the thing.’ Perhaps a dig at Bobbie for buying the pool and never using it? Or was it Bob who bought the pool? Not sure but I remember thinking ‘ah oh,’ some underlying meaning here.
Regardless their kindness was 24/7. This kindness, in spite of the many baseballs, golf balls, basketballs (and more) that ended up in their yard and honestly, they were likely ricocheting into their yard by way of the side of their car. Bobbie had a pretty little red car that was a great backstop for every ball ever played with in our front yard. It’s truly amazing they even spoke to us. You might have noticed Bobbie’s ‘little red car’ in the pictures at the top of the story. Jason holding a bat (that implied some guilt). Jordan pushing the lawnmower that, thankfully only kicked out bubbles instead of rocks to bounce off the car.
And you might say golf balls? Who would be using golf balls in their backyard or front yard for that matter? That doesn’t even make sense.
Well, enter Jason Matthew again. Our oldest. He and his buddy Brian were caught, multiple times, driving golf balls from the back yard into the Watson Park Lake. Normally, this was after the park was closed (again, we hope), but they weren’t great golfers and a few balls sliced. One of them right through our glass backboard. Everyone on 30th street heard us yelling that night. Brian still keeps a low profile around us to this day. We get good laughs about it all now. Fun times on 30th Street.
Bob and Bobbie on 30th. Really good people.
Simba, sweet, sweet, SWEET little mischievous doggie. So mischievous that she was reported to the law. Well, I guess her owners were reported to the law. But I’ll leave that story for another day.
Our life on 30th Street was wonderful and most of it had to do with our great neighbors. They understood Mark 12:31. Love your neighbor as yourself, because they were always there for our boys and for us. Good neighbors on 30th street. Them, not so much us.
