Last night a real estate-related dispute in which I had only peripheral involvement ended up with neighbors in another city calling the police alleging threatening behavior against each other. I believe the incident began with a rug hanging over a patio railing. Is this how the Hatfields and McCoys started their feud?
I have not heard anything more about the railing or the rug today. And for that I am thankful. Nevertheless, I’m a little bit curious what happened. Maybe the police behaved like Bobby Hill and Andy Renko on the old “Hill Street Blues” TV show and mediated the situation, everyone going home relatively calmed down and happier. Or maybe like in the “Maltese Falcon” as Bogey suggested, the police took the whole lot of them down to the station and they all swore out complaints against each other.
For today I have had to deal with a bunch of insurance claims in another real estate matter. This one concerned a flood that caused a BIG mess, the kind someone might have had an excuse to get excited about. Five condos were significantly damaged. But luckily no one got nasty or called the police. Insurers are just slow to pay. So what else is new?
Since I have been dealing with these business matters at home I also have the chance to interact with my pet. I inherited this dog in the same way I inherited the real estate problems, from my parents. And both inheritances have been something of a headache.
The real estate needs almost constant managing. And the dog has always been anxious and unfriendly towards most people. At first he followed me everywhere, not so much for company as to reassure himself that I was still here. Now he has developed a little Alzheimer's and a lot of arthritis. He no longer comes upstairs to keep tabs on me and sit by my side as I work on the computer. I don’t know which ailment has caused his absence.
He’s taking a bunch of pills, such that it is a challenge to keep track and give them at right times. In the last week he started on some new meds: an antibiotic for what are essentially bed sores, and an anti-inflammatory for his arthritis. Whatever it is though, he is doing much better with the new pills. The joy of life now seems to be far from over for him. In fact he is happier and friendlier than I can ever remember him. My old dog also loves to go in the yard and play in the sprinkler. As the vet says, sometimes when dogs get Alzheimer’s they forget to be anxious and instead turn into nice dogs.
I wonder if maybe some of the folks who need to involve police in settling their interpersonal dramas would be less anxious if they developed a little dementia and forgot their anxiety. Maybe then they would go out and play in the sprinkler instead.