Won't You Be My Neighbor?

I’ve had my share of interesting neighbors, from the amateur flutist who lives below me to the one family on the third floor that seems to be constantly hammering away at Lord only knows what at least once every day. However, while they may be a bit noisy now and then, we’ve gotten along fine. Not a soul here in my building has really given me any trouble, or at least that was the case until about a few weeks ago, when the newest resident of Building #4 moved in.

He may not look like much, but surprisingly enough, this little fellow made things a bit stressful for a while. I think it all started when I was rushing back to my apartment; I can’t recall what it was for, but I do know that when I hurriedly strode through the front entrance, my sudden appearance was greeted with what I first thought was the shriek of a banshee. Apparently I dashed in a bit too abruptly for the building’s newest arrival, giving him a bit of a nasty surprise. Thus, from then on out I was something to be wary of in his little brown eyes.

Needless to say, it wasn’t all too enjoyable living with the knowledge that there was a puppy who not only knew who I was, but alsow as genuinely scared of me.

Whenever I showed up while he was playing or rooting about outside, he would instinctively dash inside and take cover near the front door of his family’s apartment. Of course, this plan never worked out in anyone’s favor, for I always had to pass by the same exact door in order to climb the stairway to my own abode on the fourth floor, as all the while his barks and yips would grow ever shriller and more frantic the closer that I drew near. His reaction to my appearance was always more or less the same exercise in total futility every single time.

It wasn’t too long until I grew tired of getting taken down a peg or two due from the cries of genuine alarm and terror every time I had to leave or return home. Thus, I had no other choice, and did what had to be done in order to stop the madness.

….Of course, by that I mean I started taking scraps of bread along with me every now and then when I left the apartment.

The result?

I think that we're on far better terms now.