Good Neighbors

By Gordon Hopkins “Good fences make good neighbors.” (Or, “Good fences make good neighbours” if you happen to be British and like throwing an unnecessary “U” into a word from time to time.) We’ve all heard the old saying before and we all know what it means. But do you know where it first came from?Although a version of the phrase was probably being used long before, I think it was first set down in print using that specific wording by Robert Frost in his poem, “Mending Wall.” At least, that’s as far back as I have been able to trace it. I’m sure some scholar will happily correct me if I am wrong and I likely won’t lose much sleep over it.What I have lost sleep over is what one of my neighbors is doing. Said neighbor is sitting on my porch with his face in my living room window, staring. Blatantly staring into my house.Before someone asks why I haven’t called the cops, I should probably point out this neighbor is a cat.The reason I have been losing sleep is because the cats that live inside my house have seen this interloper and, being territorial animals as all cats are, have expressed their displeasure at having their territory despoiled by a stranger by growling and yowling and attacking the window with their claws going “clack-clack-clack” on the glass. At two in the morning. Hence, the losing of sleep.This happened quite a bit in the beginning. Fortunately, things are getting better. Archie (the orange cat) and Groucho (the black cat) no longer go ballistic when they see the neighbor kitty (a black and white “tuxedo” cat that, in my mind, I have named “Tuxedo Max”). Before, my cats raised holy heck. Now, they just stare intently whenever Max parks himself in front of the window. I’m not sure what is going on in my cats’ minds as they have their daily staring contest with Max. I’m just relieved it is a lot quieter. I almost wonder if they now think of themselves as friends.So, the other day, I was cleaning my kitchen (which I try to do at least once a decade) and I took out the trash. I spotted Max hanging out in the back yard. I said, “Hi.” He sniffed and said nothing.Once back in my kitchen, I began hearing the unmistakable sounds of an imminent cat fight, hissing and growling. The sounds of two cats telling each other, “Bring it on, sucka!”I stepped back outside and saw Max with his back arched and his teeth barred in a fighting stance.And what cat had come into my neighborhood to start trouble? It was a small, short-haired black cat.It was Groucho. He must have slipped out between my legs while I was hauling out the trash.“Groucho!” I shouted. He whirled around; clearly aware he was in trouble. I snatched him up and took him back into the house. All his hair was standing on end, like he’d been zapped with electricity. It took about forty minutes for his hair, and his mood, to calm down. His big brother wisely avoided him during the interim.Max still comes by once in a while and the cats still stare at each other through the window. I’m glad that window is there to keep things on friendly terms.

5.18.22

Armageddon, Thundaar the Barbarian Were Similar Shows

Related Articles

Things That Go Squeak in the Night

The Real Problem with Fake News

Gage County Newsletter

Tree of Life