AN: A couple of weeks ago I ran across a prompt challenge on Tumblr, all about domestic, slice-of-life type stuff. And since I always want to practice writing things not mired in trust issues, I thought it might be fun to give a couple of them a try. This is for day 5, "the pet from next door." (And you know I can't link anything here, but if you want to check out the challenge, the Tumblr blog is domaystic.)


A Dog's Life

Cheride

The neighborhood watch committee, that's what the people on the block call me. In the years since it's been just me here in the house, there's not been much else to do except watch over our mostly quiet street and its residents. But I'm not one of those nosey busybodies trying to make trouble for everyone, and I'm pretty sure the nickname is mostly an endearment. Mostly.

But I'm also pretty sure my closest neighbors, the ones just next door, they've never used that nickname, even if it is an endearment. That's the Burkes—Peter and Elizabeth—and they've never been anything but kind and respectful. They've always been the best neighbors, them and their adorable Labrador, Satchmo.

I've watched him grow, you know. Almost feel like part of the family, even though I'm not. But that's the way they are, the Burkes. They've got a lot of love, and they don't mind sharing.

They seemed like newlyweds when they moved in, still in the honeymoon phase, even if it had been a few years. So, new marriage, new house, new dog.

I'll admit, I was a little worried. City living, you know, you gotta take the bad with the good, but in a townhouse, sometimes you learn things you don't really need to know about your neighbors. And with newlyweds, it's always a crapshoot. Hard to say which is more awkward at neighborhood barbecues—when things are bad and you know they're arguing all the time, or when things are good and you know they're . . .well, not arguing, if you get what I mean.

Anyway, things were good with the Burkes, that much was always clear, but they were good neighbors. I didn't hear more than a person wants to hear—not from them, not from their puppy.

That Satchmo. He was always so friendly. Puppies like everyone, of course, but Satch liked people even when he grew up. He's the perfect dog for the Burkes; he's got a lot of love, too. I used to tease Peter that he picked the wrong animal if he was looking for a guard dog. He just laughed and said his FBI instincts must've steered him wrong, but I knew he didn't mean it. Besides, one night, Satchmo proved us both wrong, when an awful man came to hurt Elizabeth. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Anyway, Satchmo was an adorable puppy. Even when he was learning to stay home alone, he was well behaved. And later, when Elizabeth started building her business, she started working some crazy hours, just like Peter had always done. It took them a while to figure out a routine, and sometimes they'd bring Satch over and let him stay with me for the day while they worked. They always thought I was doing them a favor, even when I tried to tell them how much I loved having Satchmo visit.

So, I watched as the Burkes built a nice suburban life, including figuring out how to take turns coming home to walk the dog, and scheduling doggie play dates at the park. And Satchmo loved their life. You can always tell when a dog is happy, you know. He's so proud when they walk him to the park, and he almost always stays the leash very well. And even if he gets distracted sometimes by a neighbor cat or a passing trash truck, the Burkes always just laugh and remind him to be a good boy.

There was a while, not long after they moved in, that Peter had to be away for work quite a bit. I worried the troubles might start then, with the marriage and with the dog, but I was wrong. Elizabeth and Satchmo both handled it like champs, and were always so glad to see Peter when he came back home. And I got more doggie visits during that time, so I certainly wasn't complaining.

Then, after a few years of erratic travel, suddenly Peter was home again to stay. Oh, he still worked long hours—they both did—but he rarely had to travel out of town anymore. And even though Elizabeth had handled everything just fine while he was away, I could tell she was glad to have him back. Satchmo, too. Some dogs belong to their mom, and some belong to their dad, and Satch always has been a daddy's boy.

Sometimes when the Burkes were planning a picnic in the park, they'd invite me along. It's hard for me to fold my creaking knees to sit down on a blanket these days, but Peter always carried along a folding camp chair just for me. And then I'd get to watch Peter and Satch wrestle around for a while, both of them grinning from ear to ear. Or Peter would throw the ball until Satchmo got tired of chasing it, even though that always took a long time. Satchmo might be daddy's boy, but Peter is definitely Satchmo's dad; he's wrapped all the way around that little white paw.

But a few years after Peter stopped traveling so much, things started to change again. If I didn't know Elizabeth so well, I might have been suspicious about the attractive young man who began showing up at their door at all hours of the day or night. Hell, if I didn't know Peter so well, I might've been suspicious of him. After all, he was the one who spent the most time with the young man. Listen, I might be old, but I'm not dead, and that young man was hot.

The Burkes had lived next door for seven or eight years by that point, and I'd long ago quit worrying that they were going to be troublesome neighbors, but I should've remembered my grandpa always said 'don't count your chickens before they're hatched,' because when that nice-looking young man started showing up at the Burkes' door, it didn't take long for trouble to follow.

Sometimes there was tension in Peter's shoulders when he took Satchmo down the block, and he didn't come back laughing nearly as often as he used to. There even was some yelling, something I'd never really heard from next door. Not between the Burkes themselves, but sometimes when the young man was there.

And besides the yelling, there were police raids—well, FBI raids, I suppose, but either way, angry looking armed officers of some sort—and once, I even heard talk around the block that Elizabeth had been arrested, though I hadn't been home that day. Elizabeth Burke, arrested. That was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard.

And, as I mentioned before, there was the awful night Elizabeth was kidnapped. Thank goodness Satchmo wasn't the kind to make a fuss generally; that's how I knew to look outside that night and call the cops. The Burkes told me later that Satchmo had done his best to defend Elizabeth and even managed to get in a bite that gave them a helpful clue. I wouldn't have thought Satch would bite anyone ever, but I'm so glad I was wrong about that. The attractive man was there that night, too, looking as worried as Peter. Thank God everything turned out okay.

But don't get me wrong, things weren't all bad with the young man—Neal was his name. I met him one day when he took Satchmo for a walk. He stopped to introduce himself when he saw me looking, and I have to say, he was quite charming. He told me he worked with Peter, though he laughed when I asked if he was an agent, too. Neal never did tell me what his job was, but eventually I figured out that he'd spent some time on the opposite side of the law. That certainly explained the times of tension, though every time I chatted with Neal—he ended up taking Satch for a lot of walks—I was sure he was more than a run-of-the-mill criminal, and not just because the Burkes welcomed him into their home, even with the yelling, the raids, and even the kidnapping.

No, there were other signs, too, especially with Peter. He might've had more stressful days than I'd noticed before, but he laughed more freely, too. Not that he wasn't happy before, you understand, but Peter's a pretty serious guy, some might even call him uptight. At least he used to be. After Neal started coming around, Peter was looser, more relaxed. It was a good change. And Elizabeth liked it, too. She told me once Peter and Neal were good for each other, and I could tell that was good for her.

And Satchmo. Oh, my. He was still a daddy's boy, but he loved Neal from the beginning. And Neal loved him right back. I'd hear him carrying on entire conversations with that dog whenever they walked down the block, like he was entrusting Satchmo with all the secrets of the world. And sometimes, Neal would come back from the park a little dusty and just a bit more rumpled than he went, like he'd forgotten his fancy suit and had rolled around in the grass with Satchmo, anyway. Anyone who'll play with a dog like that can't be all bad, no matter what kind of jewelry he's wearing on his ankle.

And though I'd never want to be accused of telling tales out of school, after Neal had been coming around for a couple of years, sometimes I noticed that returning from the park wasn't the only time he looked a little rumpled. And though I still sometimes heard arguing when he was visiting, I'd swear that sometimes I heard the not arguing. If you get what I mean. Like I said, the Burkes have a lot of love to give.

Outside the house, nothing ever looked any different; the three of them were the picture of discretion. And it was probably for the best. I can only imagine what some people might've thought, especially considering Peter and Neal's professional relationship. But I've made a few trips around the sun, and if there's one thing I know, it's that this world doesn't give you all that many chances for true happiness, and you should take them where you can, even if it means you have to be a little careful sometimes.

But sometimes they'd all walk together down to the park, and it was sweet, even if it was a little sad. Neal always held onto the leash during those walks because he wasn't allowed to hold on to Peter or Elizabeth. But Satchmo? He never looked happier than when he was with all his people.

Things went on like that for a while, maybe a year or so. It was nice to see. But sometimes nice things don't last.

One evening Peter came home alone, looking worse than I'd ever seen him. Worse even than the night Elizabeth was taken, because that night, at least he'd had anger to keep him going; he had purpose. This time, though . . . this time, he was just broken.

I heard a lot of crying through the walls that night, enough that I almost cried myself. There hadn't been many tears in the years since the Burkes moved in, at least, not many that bled from their home into mine. That was the first time in a decade I wished they hadn't moved in next door, because at some point, I was going to find out whatever caused those horrible sobs, and I was sure I didn't really want to know.

It didn't take long to find out how right I'd been.

The first day or so after, lots of people came and went from the Burke household, all of them grim-faced and somber. I'd seen many of them before over the years, just from time to time, but quite a few came I didn't recognize. I was pretty sure most of them worked with Peter, but none of them stayed long. One short little man that I'd seen many times before took Satch out a time or two, but neither of them seemed to enjoy it the way they had before.

The one person I never saw was Neal, and with each visitor, my heart grew a little heavier.

Three days later, Elizabeth confirmed my fears when she knocked on my door, asking for another favor. She and Peter would be away from the house all the next day for both public and private memorials for the dashing young man, and would I please go over a time or two and let Satchmo into the yard for a while? She rushed the words, trying to get them out without breaking down, but it was a failed effort. I hugged her tight, whispered my condolences, and assured her I'd be glad to look after Satch.

It felt strange in their home the next day, dark, like all the light had been snuffed out, even though the sun glowed through the windows. I wasn't surprised Satchmo seemed as subdued as the rest of his family; dogs know things, after all. But I brought him a couple of special treats and left the Burkes a plate of my homemade cookies, hoping they wouldn't think too much about how Neal had always said my shortbread was the only cookie he'd ever enjoyed with wine.

Things weren't the same after that and I didn't see the Burkes nearly as often. Grief hung over them like darkness covers night. There was no loitering to chat on the sidewalk, no backyard barbecues, and certainly no picnics. Even the walks to the park were brief—an obligation now rather than a joy.

Their sadness became even more poignant a little later when I learned Elizabeth was expecting their first child. It should have been the happiest time of their lives, but they were both just so lost.

Good ol' Satchmo, though, it's like he became a protector overnight. He stayed close to Elizabeth when they walked, closer than ever before, keeping her safe. On the rare occasion she stopped to say hello, Satch would sit himself right at El's feet, in between us, and even I wasn't allowed to get near her. He was getting a head start on being a big brother, that's for sure.

But people (and dogs) learn to live with loss; what else are you going to do?

Eventually, the Burkes started taking longer walks again, smiling more frequently, and Elizabeth was even almost glowing, finally. And once, right before the baby came, they even asked me to dog-sit so they could have one last weekend away, just the two of them. It was just like old times, having Satchmo at my place, though we had to settle for tossing a ball around in the yard since I'm not up to walking to the park anymore. I probably spoiled him a little bit that weekend, maybe gave him too many treats, and even let him get up on the furniture whenever he wanted, but I never got any complaints.

And then the baby was here, and oh what a cutie he was. I waited around a couple of weeks or so, just to be on hand in case the Burkes might need any sort of help in those frantic first days of parenting (and they did bring Satch by a time or two when they were feeling particularly overwhelmed and didn't need a jealous Labrador under foot, being yappy for the first time in his life), but then I took a well-timed vacation to visit my sister. Don't get me wrong, baby Neal—yeah, they named him Neal!—wasn't a bad baby; in fact, he was pretty good, really. But he was still a baby, and an old lady gets used to things a certain way, including being able to sleep through the night. I hightailed it out of there for a couple of months, and by the time I got back, my relatively quiet neighbors had returned. Even Satchmo had settled down again, and if you think he was protective of pregnant Elizabeth, you really should've seen him with baby Neal. He even growled at me one time when I got too close to the baby. Me! He obviously forgot who always gives him special treats.

But it was magical, watching Neal grow with Satchmo at his side. All little boys should be so lucky with their fur siblings. And really, all dogs should be lucky enough to have a baby to watch over.

By the time Neal could walk, I thought my face might split open from grinning as I watched him toddle down the sidewalk on the way to the park, holding on to Satchmo's leash like he was all grown up, jabbering to the dog the whole way, just like big Neal used to do.

I worried at first that might make Peter and Elizabeth sad, but as time went on, they seemed to love finding things in their son that reminded them of their . . . well, whatever Neal had actually been. I wish they could've had enough time together to define it. The Burkes should've been able to openly share some of that love they gave so freely; the Neals should've gotten the chance to know each other; and Satchmo . . . well, Satchmo had always been a loyal friend, and it was too damn bad that just once he couldn't have had his entire family all together.

But now Neal's third birthday is coming up soon; Elizabeth has been making plans for weeks, and just the other day, they stopped on their way home from the park and Neal told me all about some kind of turtles that he'd chosen for his theme. He said they're the coolest because they fight bad guys like his daddy, and they have names of art people. He said his Uncle Moz has told him all about old art people, especially ones Big Neal used to like, and they're almost as neat as people who fight bad guys. Elizabeth just laughed and said she'd had to promise to make a turtle mask for Satchmo, but that she thought some kind of smock might be more practical since they were going to let the kids loose with paint at the party. Satch seemed to know we were talking about him, and he woofed happily as he pranced around his little buddy.

But earlier today, I was sitting out on the patio enjoying the afternoon sun, and, if I'm honest, also enjoying the sounds coming from the next yard over. All three of the Burkes were outside, making the most of a late-summer barbecue. I could hear Peter and Elizabeth talking, their voices indistinct but pleasant murmurs, and I could hear Neal laughing as he played with Satchmo. Old Satch might be slowing down a little these days, but he still trots after that ball whenever Neal throws it, and he's still the most protective big brother that kid could ever hope to have.

So when I suddenly heard Satchmo making more of a fuss than he ever does, barking and pawing at the fence, just before I heard Elizabeth shriek and scream out Neal's name followed by a surprised curse from Peter, I was sure something awful had happened.

I grabbed my phone just in case I needed to call 911 and hurried toward my back gate. If I had to, I could get into their yard through the alley. Only these days, I don't really hurry all that quickly, so by the time I crossed the yard, things next door didn't sound quite so critical anymore, though there was obviously still a lot of excitement going on. I didn't want to intrude unnecessarily, but I did want to make sure everything was okay. And, if I'm being honest, I can't deny I was curious. Sue me.

So I did what any self-respecting neighborhood watcher would do: I peeked through the slats in the fence that separates our yards to see what was going on. And let me tell you, in all my years of watching over our happy little block, nothing had ever prepared me for what I saw through that crack.

Peter and Elizabeth had a very familiar lanky figure sandwiched between them, wrapping him in an embrace so tight I'm surprised he could even breathe. All three of them were laughing and crying, talking over each other like they had only a single breath to catch up on almost four years of missing time.

Little Neal—and I guess he really would have to be Little Neal now—was tugging at his mom's leg, calling out to his dad again and again, trying to be included as he craned his neck upward to see what the grownups were doing. And dear Satchmo was beside himself, barking excitedly and running all over the yard.

Finally, the Burkes released Neal from their grip, but they still didn't let him move far. Then Peter reached down and lifted his son up into his arms and proudly introduced the two namesakes. Little Neal's face lit up at finally being included, and the only thing he wanted to know was if Big Neal could come to his turtle party. I could see Peter and Elizabeth practically holding their breath until Neal ruffled the little guy's hair and promised he wouldn't miss it for the world.

The Burkes tugged Neal back closer to the house then, and he laughed as they pushed him down into one of the patio chairs and swore they were never letting him out of their sight again. And as soon as they moved aside just long enough to drag their own chairs closer, Satchmo finally got his chance to move in. He reared up, pawing at Neal eagerly, licking his face, and finally climbed fully into Neal's lap, almost knocking him over in the process. Elizabeth scolded the dog, but Neal waved her off as he hugged Satchmo's neck, nuzzling his face into the fur, and before long, they were all laughing again as fresh tears streaked their faces.

When Neal finally told Satch to get down, the Lab was as hyper as the rest of them, prancing around from seat to seat, rubbing against first one set of legs and then the next, getting pats from everyone. Round and round the table he went, ears flopping, tail wagging non-stop, and his tongue lolling as he panted happily.

I don't know what happened years ago, and who knows how things will go from here on out, but I do know that for at least one afternoon, Satchmo finally got to have his entire family together at last.

~END~


So it's another kind of weird one for me, but I'd been thinking about outsider POVs lately, and when I saw this prompt, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to give it a try. And I swear, I didn't intend this to have OT3 overtones when I began, but apparently even random neighbors think they're allowed to come in and just take over. Crazy lady!

Thanks for reading along, even when I'm traipsing all over the place, testing out random things. I appreciate you more than I can say.