Chapter 14

In June I got a cash payout from the insurance company for when the tree fell on the house. So I had Phil take me to the hardware store and I bought some lumber to build a woodshed, some paneling for the house, a solar light, and a build-it-yourself greenhouse kit. Chuck got hired as a mechanic working on big rig trucks. He started working 12-hour days, five days a week, so I had the place to myself for a change. I built a wood shed and set up the greenhouse. I planted a garden. I adopted a cat.

Ellen had come over and asked me if I would please take one of her cats, Belle. The poor old gal was always getting beat up by the other cats and spent most of her time under the bed or in the closet. She really needed a nice home, free of other cats. Plus, she was a good mouser and I was having a bit of a problem with mice. Ellen said she would provide a cat box and help buy cat food. So, I finally said yes and got myself a kitty.

On weekends Chuck and I started hanging out together again, enjoying the property. There was no more sleeping together and I just really wanted for us to be friends. After all, we were in this completely bizarre situation now. The world was exploding and people were dying from horrible things everywhere. It was nice to have a real person to talk to about all the horrors the BFEE had unleashed upon the world. We were setting up our little safe haven. This could work.

This is an email that he sent then that made me feel more comfortable with what was going on here.

 

July 7

Let me know where you want me to move that lumber that is on top of my logs on the West side of your barn.
I don't want to put your lumber on the ground, but I want those logs out of there in the next day or two to prevent rotting.
I plan to move them (my logs) over to my greenhouse area
Thanx

So, we're outside talking again one afternoon and he decides to tell me the following about himself: “Sometimes people accuse me of being self-centered. I'll admit it, I am. That doesn't mean I'm conceited though, it just means I'm looking out for myself. I have to, to survive. I've been screwed over again and again. People always take advantage of my innocence, my gentleness. I trust them and then they rip me off. So now I always think of myself first. It's how I've managed to survive all this time.”

 

I began to realize that whenever I went over feeling happy he would immediately slap me with some criticism, which would put me in a weak and submissive state. He would then turn all cheerful and talk about how wonderful he was and how he needed things to be. I was only allowed to like his music, his food, his ideas. If I had my own ideas, this was stressful to him.

He often told me that I was not at all observant; it was like I was wearing blinders. He based this on the fact that when I walk I always look down. Lemme tell you something, I learned about looking down when I lived and worked in the big city. I learned to not step in dog doo or strange goop, and I frequently found money while walking that way. Now, out on my property, I'm always barefoot, in the summer anyway. I want to see exactly where my feet will be landing. He doesn't seem to understand about peripheral vision. Mine is quite good. I do still see what's going on, but he doesn't realize that.

I tried to explain it to him once, but to him it was just evidence that I was delusional. He could SEE, I couldn't. He told me that so many times, for a while I started to think maybe he was right.

One Sunday, a few weeks later, I was out working in my garden when I heard a truck pull into my driveway. It was Bill, the neighbor I'd never met, and he was carrying a chainsaw. I started getting a little freaked out and said, “Hi. What's up?”

“Hi. I'm Bill, I live over there. I think you probably know who I am and I think you have heard some really bad things about me. But, I've seen that tree laying across your yard for months now and I've seen how you try to mow around it. I decided I would come over and cut it up for you and get it out of the way. It's what neighbors do here.”

“But, but, Chuck was going to pull that around and make it into a fence for me. I'd like to have a fence across the front.”

 

“Trust me, I know Chuck; that will never happen. Just let me get it out of the way for you. Okay? Then we'll talk.”

So I let him. He made quick work of it and we moved it all out of the way. What a relief. I insisted he have a beer after and we talked.

He told me all about himself and how his family had grown up here. Then we got to talking about Chuck. I told him about the rent payments I signed for but never got and he said the same thing had happened to him. He asked me how many animals Chuck had shot here. I'm like, “What?”

“Oh yeah, when he first moved onto my property he told me how much respect he had for all the critters. Then one day he shot a porcupine, just because it was there. I was pretty angry about that because we don't see many porcupines around here these days, but he was all freaked out that it was going to attack him. Another time he shot a garter snake. He said it bit him. I don't believe that. I think there is something wrong with the guy.”

“Oh yes, I think so, too. But I'm trying to find help for him. I love him. I would do anything for him.”

“That's nice of you. Hope it works out. But come on up sometime, meet the gang. You have friends up the road you don't even know about. I'm only here in the summer though. I leave in September.”

We shared a big hug and he left. About an hour later Chuck came out. “I see you've gone over to the dark side.”

“No. I did not invite him here. I did not ask him to do that. He came over and volunteered to help a woman who appeared to be in need of help. I was, and I am very grateful for what he did. Here's something you should know about him. He was recently diagnosed with Parkinson's. He's doing okay so far; he's on a lot of drugs. But he has a horrible disease and he will eventually die from it.”

“I didn't know that. Maybe I should go and try to talk to him. Maybe we could make up.”

“I think that would be a really good idea, for both of you.”

A couple of days later I walked the quarter mile up to Bill's. He was just starting the grill. I met Sam, the guy who looks after the property now, like Chuck used to do. Then Rob, who hangs out most days and helps in whatever way he can. Bill took me on a tour of the property, some of which I had seen, all those years before. There was a bit of a tug in my heart to see that place where Chuck and I started out. But there was a whole lot more to see than just that little spot, like part of the big creek there. It was just stunning and we had a nice, long hike. Then he fed me, grilled burgers and fries. Yum. 

 

Weeks later I took Ellen up to Bill's and introduced them. He fed us, grilled burgers, fries, corn on the cob. It was a beautiful evening. Bill has this gorgeous cat, a tiny calico girl, so of course we ladies were all gushing over her. He invited us to an upcoming party in a few weeks. It was a party he had yearly and people would be coming from all over. There would be live music, a fairly famous musician even. I said I'd be there, for sure.

Ellen didn't get to go, she had to work. I went though, and oh my, what a great time. It was outside in the woods, about 20-30 people there, all of them very nice. One person came around offering venison sausage. Killed the deer himself. Now, I was never one to eat this sort of thing before. But this is a new world and I was tired of the old world of grocery store meat, full of chemicals and antibiotics.

So I took a piece and it changed my eating habits forever. It was so tasty. It went down so smooth. Now I eat venison whenever I can. Then came the live music. Several people there had guitars and fiddles and drums. What a wonderful, beautiful night I had. I walked home under the star-filled sky, and someone walked with me to make sure I got home safely.

This was a new person I had only met that night. He heard a bit about my situation and told me I should just tell Chuck to leave. “He already stated that he wanted to, right? Good. Now just tell him to go. You shouldn't have to live with all this stress and harassment. Just tell him to go.”

Chapter 21

One day I was over at Phil's and heard a cat crying outside, and I do mean crying. After a while I said, “Whose kitty is that?”

“Oh, the people next door. Cat used to live inside but they have a new baby now and I guess it was always getting in the crib with the baby and they were afraid the cat would smother it or something. So they threw it out. I let it come in here a couple of times but I can't stand the cat hair. So now it just sits out on the porch and cries all the time.”

“Oh, for God's sake.”

I went out and the little guy came running right up to me. I picked him up and his ears and little de-clawed feet were ice cold. It was November, after all. He shivered and snuggled up under my chin. I fell in love.

I said, “That's it, Phil. We're gonna have us a catnapping. Take me home now so I can call Ellen and make sure she's okay with the idea, since I already have Belle. Then come get me in the morning and we'll bring the little guy to my house.”

He called in the morning and told me he had talked to the people and they were more than happy to give him away. They had given Phil his food, some toys, and a cat box, and he would bring them all over, if the cat didn't have some sort of panic attack in his truck. About half an hour later they drove up. The cat was sitting happily on the seat, obviously enjoying the ride.

“His name is Mick, and he sure seems to like riding, just like a dog.”

Thus came a new love into my life. My little Mick, who absolutely adores me. Turns out he's a Manx, I hadn't realized that; I had never met one before. Are they always this smart? He seems totally capable of reading my mind.

He has to be wherever I am. He sits in my lap when I am at the computer and stares up at me with eyes full of love. Sometimes when he's doing that he seems to swoon and falls over against my chest. He sleeps all cuddled up next to me. Belle has always preferred sleeping in a box in a separate room. They get along pretty well. There is the occasional “Hisss, fffft,” and they bat at each other with their clawless pads, but I separate them and all is well again. 

I made another new friend around that time, too. The house right across the street from

me had been for sale for a good while. Then I found out a single woman from out of town had bought it. One day after the movers had evidently finished bringing everything, I went over and introduced myself. I gave her a Welcome to the Neighborhood card with my phone number in it and told her to call if she needed any help at all. About a week later she called and asked if I'd like to come over and have a glass of wine.

Dee Dee was still living amidst piles of boxes but she uncovered two chairs and a small table and we plunked ourselves down for a good, long chat. She had left an abusive relationship down in the city and decided she needed to live the wilderness experience for her mental health. For her physical health, as well.

I told her about the situation at my place and that she should be very wary if Chuck were to come over and offer to help her out with anything. She told me that the realtor, a life-long Whispering Springs resident, had already warned her about him. This was the same realtor that sold me my house. Why didn't he warn me?

Anyway, we became fast friends and I eventually introduced her to everyone I know. The winter went by pretty quickly having so many friends to pass the time with. I could go into town whenever I needed to. Phil and his son are both avid fishermen and hunters so I was always on the receiving end for fresh fish and venison.

We had very little snow that winter so I was able to keep it shoveled out by myself except for a couple of times. Then spring came early with some really strong winds, which blew my greenhouse over. I built a frame inside it with 2x4s and stood it back up. 

Dee Dee bought a rototiller so she could put in a garden in her yard. Then she brought it over and made my garden plot bigger. Spending so much time working out in the yard, I decided to let the cats come out with me. Oh, were they ever happy with that decision.

They love exploring all around the yard. Mick has to always be where I am. When I dig in the garden, he digs in the garden. When I mow the yard, the cats run into the house because they don't like the noise. But as soon as I'm done, Mick comes out and climbs up onto the tractor seat, looking around with great satisfaction. 

 

Eventually the cats became more independent, sometimes wandering over to Chuck's. This worries me. Chuck is fanatical about feeding the birds. He has half a dozen bird feeders set up over there. Since they're the only friends he seems to have left, I certainly don't begrudge him. But cats do kill birds, although I do my best to discourage them whenever I see them stalking one. I even took down all my bird feeders.

Cats kill a lot of other things, too. Mick is my mole getter. He'll crouch down by a hole and just wait. Then, bang, he gets one. I am happy for the sake of my garden. Belle, on the other hand, likes snakes.

One day I was outside and see her come trotting across the yard, something in her mouth. As she gets closer I see it is a snake, about two feet long, and she wants to bring it in the house. Ah, geeze. I run and close the back door and then beg her to please put it down. She finally does and I get a shovel and pick it up and take it over to where the land drops down towards the creek, and toss it.

Another time she actually did get into the house with one and dropped it on the kitchen floor. It was still quite alive. I was freaking out and jumping up and down yelling, “Ah, Ah!” It quickly slithered away under the pantry door and I never saw it again. I'm guessing it found its way down to the basement and then out from there. They're just garter snakes and I'm not really afraid of them. I just didn't want to find one in my bed.

Once she brought in a chipmunk. It, too, was still alive. When she dropped it, it jumped into the cupboard under the sink. I don't have a door there so it stays warm and not likely to freeze the pipes in winter. Belle went in after it and suddenly containers of dish washing soap, laundry soap, paper towels came flying out, followed by the chipmunk and Belle. I had opened the kitchen door so after a couple of laps around the kitchen, chipmunk and cat were out the door again. I don't know how that event ended and it's better that way, I'm sure.

I did learn, though, to always look out the window before opening the door for the cats because you just never know what prize they might be bringing home to Mom.

Chapter 23

A couple of days later the temperature was just below freezing; I turned on the water and once again nothing came out. Sigh. I'll survive, but now I will also call a plumber. People had recently told me about a new plumber in town. Our other plumber was a guy who decided he'd rather drink than plumb, so I was happy to know we now had a new option.

This month I have spent more time in my basement than I have in all the years previous. The ceiling down there is low, so you always have to crouch if you're over five feet tall. It's hard on the back. My new plumber is short, like me, and he knows what he's doing. He determined that the switch and gauge were both fried, due to how they had been set up all those years ago. He had his helper run to town to the hardware store for new parts. Within an hour I had real running water throughout my house, just like it was long ago. I am really feeling buyer's remorse now, Chuck.

I'm not the only one having problems these days. Dee Dee is having some health issues so she doesn't get out much. Ellen is having problems at work and is highly stressed. Phil still has problems with his truck. So I was homebound for a while .

Chuck seems to have lost his computer. I noticed in November the few times that I saw him post something online, it was at a time when he was definitely not out here. So I would guess he was going to the library to use the computers there.

February's end, I am finally able to get to the grocery and then over to Phil's for a visit and some supper. Phil has got the heater working in the truck again, though the ATV is still no go. It was a good time and I came home with leftovers.

A hamburger! I haven't had a hamburger since last summer. They had grilled some a few days earlier and had put a few in the freezer, so I got one. I put some onion and canned tomatoes on it, and a slice of cheese. What a treat!

The morning after I was at Phil's I looked out my kitchen window to enjoy the view. Chuck's old camper is part of that view and I see this scrawled on the side of his camper, in black marker:

COONS'S

CAT

CRAPPER

BELLE -------------l

MICK --------- l     l

                   v    v

There are arrows pointing all over which I couldn't exactly replicate here. Wow. He must have had quite the stressful day to make him act out like a 12-year-old. Yes, dear, cats poop outside. And they have more right to be on this property than you do. Graffiti, at age 60? You know,  being young at heart and being immature are not the same thing. Now you're doing it wrong.

 

I'm not entirely sure what to make of that first word. Raccoons? One friend who saw it said that long ago it was a slang term for a lady's private parts. It's also a derogatory term for people with dark skin. I sure hope that nice, young black man who rides his horse up and down the road can't see it. I do think maybe it's a lame attempt to spell my birth name. The stupidity it reveals is rather stunning.

I'm happy to report, though, that this doesn't stress me out hardly at all. A few deep breathing exercises and I was actually able to laugh at it. Then I considered going over and writing on the side that he sees from his window, “Shit happens.” But I decided not to stoop to his level, and I've just let it be. 

It rained about a week later, and all the words got washed away. Then, a  few days after that, as I went out for the mail, I saw he had painted, with dark blue paint, the words, "Illegal Immigrant" on the end of the trailer which is visible from the road. There was an arrow pointing at my house.

Well, I had this bottle of blue nail polish, left over from an old art project, so I used it to cover the word "immigrant," and change it to occupant. Then I painted an arrow towards him.

Cherylann Thomas, in her book, Evil Eyes: A Daughter’s Memoir, says "Psychopaths are more impulsive than malignant narcissists and are less able to pretend to conform to society’s rules or portray a mask of normalcy."  She also states that she believes psychopaths hurt people on purpose for the sheer enjoyment of it, whereas malignant narcissists’ abuse is more a consequence of their selfishness.