When I first moved into my home... [View all]

There was a woman and her husband who lived a few doors down. They would walk up and down the street every day, holding hands. They would wave as they walked by. She was a little thing, thin and under five feet tall. Her husband was Italian, with a huge smile and a robust laugh.

I became close to both of them, but to her especially.

After her husband passed away, she would be out there in the harsh weather, shoveling the snow off her long driveway. I would do my best to hightail it over there after a snowfall, and shovel her driveway before she had a chance to get out there. She was fiercely independent, and she would curse at me out of her window when I was shoveling. And she used the colorful curse words that I won't type here. GO HOME!! I WANT TO DO IT MYSELF!! I would ignore her and keep on shoveling.

In June of 1985, I drove home from a concert that I attended in Pennsylvania. It was very hot. As I turned down my street and drove toward my home, she was running down the street, crying, carrying her limp little dog in her arms. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM"!

I reached over and threw open the passenger door and told her to get in. There was a vet office a mile up the road. We sped to the office, and the dog was treated. Turns out it was just a problem with the heat.

Over the years, we would meet in the street in front of my house and chat. She called me by my nickname. She told me she loved me every time we parted, and I would tell her I loved her.

She would stand in the row of trees across the street, and she would talk to the birds there. I was watching her one time. She was looking up into a tree, and she was talking. She held out her hand, and a bird flew to her and landed on her hand. It was a small bird, maybe like a sparrow. I could see her talking to the bird as it sat on her outstretched hand.

We had two Shelties who were wary of other people. But when she walked by, they would start crying with glee. Whining loudly. She would walk up to the fence, and the dogs could not contain their excitement to see her. They would uncharacteristically whine loudly as she approached the chain link fence, and both of them would simultaneously be jumping on the fence as she approached.

Her voice would get high and playful as she talked to my dogs, and she would weave her fingers through the fence to pet them.

I've never seen anyone with a way with animals like that. Her ways were almost spiritual. The animals knew.

She passed away in her home, at age 103.

I miss her.