Live Like Someone Left the Gate Open!

About the time we got married, my Mom and Dad attended a local benefit auction and purchased us a set of dining room chairs to accompany my restored antique table.  The chairs were to be retrieved at the home of the previous chair-owner, a recent divorcee with a waterfront condo in Newcastle, who had ‘downsized’ …considerably.  We found the address easily and knocked on the door.  The woman was polite enough but did not invite us in, even when we offered to fetch and haul the chairs. There was no small talk, no smiles. I am sure she didn’t mean to make us feel like we were from the other side of the tracks and perhaps there was something else going on that day of which we were unaware, but we clearly felt her disdain. We waited on the door step while she carried each chair from her basement to the front door.  When she opened the door so that we could claim the chairs, she warned us, “Be sure to latch the gate!”  She then shut the door, and was gone. She had let out a small six or eight-month-old toy dog, poodle perhaps, or something similar.  We managed to get all the chairs out of the gated yard and were just finishing loading them into the car, when we caught site of the streak flying through the gate. We had done it (actually, I believe it was me, Kim), we left the gate open.

We stood there for a moment, mouths agape in disbelief. In front of us was the happiest dog we had ever seen. She was travelling at speeds you wouldn’t believe a small dog could achieve, back and forth across the wide cul-de-sac with a big, wide smile on her face. I never knew a dog that could smile like this dog was smiling. Rapid thoughts raced through our minds, “can we catch her? ...Not a chance…should we just leave? Oh My GOD, we have to knock on that woman’s door and tell her what we did.” We sheepishly returned, through the unlatched gate, and knocked on the door. I felt like I was 10, not 30, as we told her we let the dog out. She huffed past us and began the chase.

For about 20 minutes we attempted to assist as the dog whizzed by us, so clearly playing her own game, staying just out of reach. Slowly she worked her way farther and farther from home and we trundled along, achieving nothing. Once, the chair-lady had her cornered on someone’s porch, but she managed to get by again. Finally the Woman, we never found out her name, hollered at us, “Just go!” We didn’t argue, we got in the car and left with our new chairs.

The vivid memory of this day jolted through my head yesterday when this photo appeared on Facebook, (I don’t remember who posted, sorry) that I swear was taken that day in the cul-de-sac. Could that figure in the background be me, wishing I could be anywhere but there?  I immediately forwarded the photo on to Bob who is working on the boat in the North Carolina heat this week and his response was only “Awesome.”

I am seriously considering framing this and hanging it in the boat.  Suddenly, after years of feeling guilt about that small dog, always from the “I left the gate open” perspective, it is our turn. Our gate is open.