Neighborhood Watch

An egret alongside Thompson Creek

I feel lucky that my husband, Rick, and I live in a relatively small town and in a neighborhood that is filled with lovely homes and friendly people. We walk every day, usually three miles, with our two German shepherds, Hallie and Jake. (And we remember Rudy, our handsome, chocolate lab, who died in December of lymphoma, but I shouldn’t digress. It’s amazing how many acquaintances have inquired about sweet Rudy. “What happened to your other dog?” they ask, and like, we, are saddened when they hear the story.)

The fact is, though, that we walk. It is routine and while I realize that some folks would view our habit as mundane, it works for us. It gives us a chance to chat, bond with our pups, and appreciate our surroundings. In recent days, however, I’ve realized our daily walks have given us more.

We have been following basically the same route for years now and have become acquainted with many people, old, young, and in between. We look forward to it. We’ve met Jim, the firefighter, and Peggy, his wife. We know their kids. We admire Gloria, Dan, and Chris, all plugging away to make their community gardens grow. We frequently interact with Megan, the dog walker, and with countless owners of other dogs with names such as Abby, Odie, Jamie, Addy, Sophie, Thor, Blaze, Baxter, Tank, Freddy, Hunter, and more. Yes, we know the dogs by name. Often we see my teacher friends, Darryl with his wife, or Mady with her husband, or from time to time past Casa Grande High School colleagues, Debbie and Brett. We know Lori, Lisa, Frank, Steve, Margo, and David by name now and look forward to a word or two. It’s always a pleasure to meet up with Craig and Ivana or to stop and catch up on the latest with Sylvie or Tony, old friends.

Several months ago, we met a most charming and friendly woman named Marella. She was walking with her little, brown dog, Jamie. For some reason the moment we said, “Hello,” we struck an instant rapport. Maybe it was because she met our puppy, Jake on his first walk. Maybe it was because she simply liked German shepherds. Maybe she welcomed another couple of friends. Maybe it was just because.

“My son had a dog named Jake,” she told us. From then on, she would make it a point to check in with us, often waving from a distance or waiting for us to catch up. Marella was always smiling, always upbeat, and always a joy. She had no idea that she impacted our lives, and perhaps we didn’t know either until we received the news.

On Memorial Day 2016 as we strolled by Thompson Creek, Gloria, who generally lights up any day, ran toward us. “I have to tell you something,” she said seriously.

Catching her breath, she gave us the news, “Marella has left us.”

“What?” we inquired in unison.

“She died yesterday. Her son found her mid-day.”

“Oh my God.” I began to cry.

Gloria hugged us, we absorbed every detail of events from the evening before Marella passed, and then we gloomily parted ways. We found out Marella had terminal cancer; no one, I suspect, acquaintance or stranger, would have known because her joy of life took precedence. We never had a clue and she clearly was not about to dump her hardships on others. Amazing. This sweet lady, who was so friendly, died alone in her bed at home with only little Jamie, her loyal canine, by her side.

Marella’s friends are planning a small memorial beside the creek and we will be there along with countless other neighbors and Marella’s sons whose grief must be tremendous. Jamie, her little, brown dog will be there too.

If there is a point to be made here, it is that people we meet do harbor secrets and often alter our lives. Sometimes simply a “Good Morning” and a smile is enough to change one’s day. It’s something to remember. Marella likely never would have understood that the news of her death, so suddenly, so shockingly, saddened us. It humbled our day. It’s true, we take so much for granted (trite, I know), but Marella is a reminder. We simply assumed we'd see her again tugging Jamie along the next day; we’d exchange greetings, and part with, “Have a great day!” just as we always did. We were mistaken. We will miss this lovely woman. We already do. Rest in peace, Marella. We won’t soon forget you.

Hallie and Jake playing in the open field beside Thompson Creek.