It was three o’clock in the morning and my neighbor’s little dog had been barking since midnight. It wasn’t the first time, so I wasn’t too concerned. I know his voice and he didn’t sound distressed, only annoyed. I guessed that it was probably because of a wandering skunk or raccoon. Just as I turned toward my bedside table to insert earplugs, the sound of a woman yelling, “Make your dog stop!” got me out of bed.
I went to the side door facing my neighbor’s house to find a woman holding a flashlight. She was trying to say something that I couldn’t make out because by that time my dog was barking ferociously. She looked harmless and small in her oversized jacket and pink pajamas, so I motioned to her to meet me at the front door so we could talk. After apologizing for getting me up, she asked if I knew the dog owner and why they were letting it bark so long. I told her I’d already tried calling them twice but they probably didn’t have their cell phones on. She wanted to call the police or the Humane Society but I talked her out of it. I assured her that everything was probably fine. I’d check on the owners in the morning, and if she wanted, she could leave me her number and I’d call her. She thanked me, apologized again, and then went on to say that she’d already been having trouble sleeping because she and her husband were divorcing after twenty years of marriage. She’d just turned fifty and they were going to lose their house. Tears began welling up in her eyes, so I asked her if she could use a hug and she said yes. As we embraced, a white van passed by suspiciously slow.
“Oh, it’s all right. That’s my husband,” she said.
“Well, at least he still cares about you.”
She smiled and we wished each other good night.
Weeks later, I thought about that woman during the World Cup when after a triumphant game, the U.S. soccer star Landon Donovan blew a kiss to the camera and said “Hi, Bianca.”
