New Kids on the Block
By Jayne Bullock
It was one of those glorious days in late May, the kind when the bright sunshine warms the earth, inviting you to open your doors and let the warmth float through the house. We had just finished breakfast. I surveyed the table littered with remnants of toast crumbs and bowls of half-eaten cereal, milk, and juice puddles in various places and the wrinkled paper napkins thrown half in the bowls and half hanging over the edge. My oldest son had just left to go to work and my husband hollered from the back door that he was leaving to go fishing for the day.
As the door slammed shut, I sank back into my chair. Seldom did I get a free moment to myself, what with work and the classes I was taking at the university. This morning, I decided to take advantage of the peace and quiet, at least for a few minutes. I reached for my mug and poured the third cup of coffee, using the last bit of cream and two spoons of sugar. Stirring it vigorously, I took pleasure in the aroma as it steamed up into my nostrils. Slowly I sipped the hot brew, savoring the feeling of the warm liquid as it rolled down my throat.
As I reached for the morning paper, now laying in crinkled folds on the floor by my husband's chair, I became aware of the low-toned growl coming from our dog Babe.
I glanced at her, then stretched the paper out on the table and began browsing the headlines, ignoring her continued grumbling. She was always growling at something. We had long ago decided that was Babe's nature, to be always grumbling and growling. I think it was part of her genetic package as a Heinz 57 breed. Despite her white ragmop hairdo, she was a delightful house pet most of the time. She could roll-over, play dead, ask for food and even fetch a ball or frisbee, if she was so inclined.
I continued to leaf through the pages, catching a word or phrase here and there - just enough visual cues to feel like I was at least abreast of the world and local news. I chuckled aloud at the latest antics of Garfield. I read my horoscope which promised an unexpected visit from a dear relative and told me to keep an eye on my finances. I smiled at the amusing entertainment these predictions created for me.
Babe barked and growled, not her usual grumble but more of a snarl. This brought my attention back to the animal. I got up from the table and went to the door, surveying the landscape from the half-glassed doorway. The grass was greening up. It wouldn't be long until we'd have to buy a new mower or provide a neighbor kid with a summer job. The sky was the wonderful shade of blue that fills spring and summer skies with just a few whispers of clouds.
Nothing in my sight seemed out of order. It was the usual Saturday morning view – a couple of neighbors were working on their flowerbeds. I mentally noted I needed to get outside before the weekend was out and take a look at what needed to be done with my own yard. Two children were riding up and down the street on their dirt bikes while a red Honda, badly in need of meeting up with the carwash, came to a screeching halt at the stop sign on the corner. Other than that, I could see nothing that should upset the animal.
"Go lie down," I told Babe. "There's nothing out there."
As the morning progressed, I worked on household tasks and homework. Babe irritatingly and intermittently kept up her growling and vigil in front of the door. She paced back and forth across the dining room carpet on tenterhooks like an expectant father awaiting the arrival of his first child. She was making me nervous and every so often I would go to the door to determine what was upsetting my canine friend. I could see nothing that should cause any concern. Finally, I went outdoors, with the dog following close at my heels. Eagerly she ran to the front steps, sniffing and snarling. We both searched through the bushes and shrubs that framed the front doorway. I had thought perhaps a rabbit family might be hiding under the bushes, but there was nothing there.
Again, I told her, "You're a silly dog, Babe. There's nothing here to growl about."
I looked around the neighborhood and saw nothing unusual. I glanced at the house on the north, a rental property that had been vacant for a few weeks. Perhaps she senses new neighbors I thought. It was possible they could have moved in earlier in the week when we were all busy with our lives and schedules that took us daily away from home. But, if someone had moved in, it appeared that they were gone for the day at least and perhaps the weekend. I wondered, could dogs smell other animals in a house next door? I didn't know the answer to that, but I thought perhaps it's possible.
I returned to the house, with Babe reluctantly following me, where I slipped back into my Saturday tasks. I had one week of school left for the semester and was trying to finish up a paper and study for a test. I really didn't have time to figure out what was wrong with a grumbling animal that was afraid of her own shadow and often hid behind me if we met a stranger when we were out for a walk. I settled into my work, ignoring the animal that still seemed obsessed with grumbling and pacing in front of the dining room door.
It was about nine o'clock that night when I first heard the distant crying noise as I was passing the still open door. Babe heard it too. She jumped to her feet, perking up her ears and cocking her head to one side as she listened. Then she snarled, rolling back her lips; it was one of those angry snarls animals make that makes the hair on your arms stand on end and your toes curl.
At first I thought it was some kind of bird or perhaps some night critter. But as I listened, trying to filter the noise from the continuous grumbling of Babe, it sounded more like a small child crying. I was puzzled. It was a strange sound, but in my mind flashed the thought that yes, it must be a child. But, where could it be coming from? As far as I knew, there were no young children in our neighborhood. Even thought it was a clear night, I questioned that I could hear such sounds from a neighbor’s house. I still had the solid-core door open and the only protection from the night was the steel and glass Anderson door. I opened it, stepped outside and listened. I could hear the crying but it was faint, almost as if I were imagining it. Could it really be coming from the house next door?
It was then I decided that the residence must no longer be vacant; the landlord must have found a renter who most likely arrived earlier in the week. Strange though, I would have thought we would have seen someone coming or going. I asked my husband if he knew whether the house next door had been rented. He reported that he didn't know, but he hadn't seen anyone around. Later that night, when my son returned home, I asked him if he had seen anyone next door or if he had heard any strange noises? Of course I got the answer I expected which was no. But teenagers live in a different world than the rest of us do and I'm not sure he would have noticed if someone had moved into our house.
It was about 11 p.m. when I my husband and I decided to turn in for the evening. We decided to step outside and see if we could hear anything before going to bed because Babe was still at her pacing and growling. We both heard the faint, almost inaudible cry of the young and decided that it definitely must be from next door, although there were no lights on in the house. Actually, there was no sign of life at all. By this time, our curiosity had been piqued. We are not the nosey neighbor type, but in our neighborhood, unlike some in larger towns, there is a lot of shouting hellos across the yards and street or visiting over a cup of hot coffee or a cold drink. I remember when we first moved in how much I had appreciated the warm friendly welcome into a new town and a new neighborhood. Since then I have always tried to do my share in making new residents feel welcome to the neighborhood.
Although we were immensely curious, we decided there was nothing we could do about the noise. We went to bed, but I tossed and turned a lot during the night. Not only did the canine member of our household spend a distressed and somewhat anxious night, so did I. I just couldn't seem to shake the feeling that something didn't seem quite right. It just didn't seem to make sense that I could hear crying and not see some kind of activity next door.
The next morning found all three of us – myself, my husband Babe – heading for the back door. Usually we sleep late on Sunday mornings, but we were both up and dressed early. I think we all must have worried about the sounds all night and wanted some verification that all was well with the world outside our home. But if we had hopes of finding anything unusual that morning, we were sorely disappointed. There was no sign of life or activity around the neighboring house. And, we heard nothing.
We were puzzled though, because we had both heard the sounds. It must have just been some stray animal passing by in the night, my husband said as we searched for a solution to the strange sounds of the day before. I still felt uneasy. The sound had been too much like that of a crying child. Oh well, I thought, I don't have time to dwell on it and with that returned to the kitchen to fix breakfast. I still had plenty of school work to do as well as church, grocery shopping and lunch.
In the afternoon I talked my husband into helping with the flower-beds and some of the yard work since we were always running a little late in getting the outside work done. My husband isn't all that interested in the growing of plants and flowers, but much to my amazement he agreed to help. We got the side beds planted, the rose bushes trimmed and were working on the front beds, putting in marigolds and impatiens. I dug into the cool, black earth, letting it fall between my fingers and feeling the strength of it, aware of the invisible nutrients that provide us with food and beauty all summer long.
Working in the garden and flowerbeds always gives me a sense of freedom and peace of mind. I feel young and full of hope with the promise of renewed life as I insert the seedlings into the earth. I smiled to myself as I recalled those days of my youth when I helped mother with her flowerbeds or offered her my latest creation of mud pies. For a moment I became mesmerized as I inhaled lilac-filled air alive with shrill vocal notes of wrens and robins and neighborhood children's voices. It was in this frame of mind that I thought I could discern the faintly audible crying again. It became much louder and I knew that I was not imagining it. That was when, out of the corner of my eye I saw movement; then my husband and I saw the wan creature wandering in the yard next to ours.
The waif seemed quite disoriented, crying, or more accurately whimpering. Huge eyes stared at us from a thin face and the disheveled, shaggy skin- and bones-body. My husband and I both looked at each other in puzzlement, but before we could say anything, he was joined by another child, just as thin and wispy. I think we were both stunned and didn't know what to do. We just watched for a moment in quiet amazement, and I remember thinking that surely the parents would come out directly and take the children inside. They were extremely young. The little tykes could walk, although the second child was just learning because he didn't seem too steady. Add to the puzzlement was the distinct sound of more crying, not coming from these two.
Buy this time Babe was beside herself. She was making as much noise, if not more, than the crying child with her barking and growling. We have to do something I told my husband. Telling the young children not to worry and that I would find their parents, I approached the dwelling that I thought was their home. I knocked and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. The place seemed eerily deserted, almost as if no one lived there. When I asked the children where there parents were, they just stared at me. At first my husband tried the door and found it was locked. Then he went around the house, trying the windows and tapping on them as he went. When he came back, he had a crying child in each arm.
What were we to do? This was serious. We hated to infringe on a family's personal rights, but one can't allow delicate, tired and hungry children to wander about the neighborhood. I took the children into our house where I fed them while my husband checked around with other neighbors to see if anyone knew anything about the tiny moppets and their parents. There hadn’t been babies in our house for a very long time and I wasn't equipped for feeding and cleaning them up. Of course they drove Babe nuts. She did nothing but run around them growling and grumbling.
My husband returned, delivering the unwelcome news that not one person in the neighborhood knew anything about the youngsters. We kept a close watch for the parents but no one seemed to be concerned about their welfare except us. We reasoned to ourselves that perhaps the parents had only stepped out for a moment while they thought the young children were sleeping and would return soon.
At first I was very puzzled about the whole situation, then I became greatly concerned about their welfare, and finally I became angry. Who leaves their babies alone for just a few minutes? Not even in the most traumatic of situations would my husband and I ever have considered leaving our youngsters without someone to watch over them, nor would any sane parent. If these were my new neighbors, we were off to a bad start. Being a friendly neighbor, I would have gladly consented to watch the children for a few moments, or even all day, if the parents had approached me with a single request to do so. Since the family would be new to the neighborhood, and maybe even the city, I can easily understand that they would naturally not want to impose on anyone, especially strangers. But, they certainly should have! Leaving the children stranded is unforgivable!
We spent the rest of the day and early evening anxiously watching for some sign of a parent or an adult of any kind returning. It was close to dinner time that we made the decision that we had been contemplating since we first found the tiny waifs. In this day and age of child abuse and child abandonment, we couldn't wait much longer to notify the authorities. After all, this was inhumane. Parents don't leave young children alone, especially in small town Iowa. I called the proper authorities who arrived within the hour to carry out their investigation. They too were puzzled about who the parents were and why the children had been left on their own. Like us, they too found the rental property to be totally deserted. They listened to our explanation about how we had heard the crying for several days. I felt so terribly guilty that we hadn't investigated earlier, but who would have thought the children were abandoned? The authorities had not received any reports of a missing family and had no idea where to even begin the search. Although our home was not an official foster parent haven, it was at this point that the authorities gave us temporary custody of the young orphans while the search for their parents continued. But there were no clues. The parents seemed to have almost vanished into thin air.
I pondered about these parents of the youngsters who had been placed in our care, two brothers and two sisters. We didn't even know what to call them, and I think the children were so traumatized that they couldn't or wouldn't speak. The only sounds I ever heard from them were crying, a sad whimper and a soft purring chuckle. How could the parents have just disappeared? And, if the father was gone, wouldn't a mother have stayed with her young?
Our family grew overnight. They were precious little things and our whole world revolved around them. We gave them names: Andy, Sam, Bethy and Misty. You may think those are odd names for the orphans, but those were the names that came to mind as we watched them eat and play. It is funny how easily you can adapt to changes and in a few days it is as if you had always followed that way of life. We began a schedule of feeding and bathing and napping. Thank goodness I didn't work in the summer time, so I had time to spend with the children.
By borrowing and begging equipment from neighbors and running to the nearest market, we were able to keep the little tykes fed and happy. They in turn began to adapt to their new surroundings and accepted us readily. The neighbors were so good about helping us when I needed to go to school, the market or run other errands. My son and his girlfriend helped out a great deal with feeding and entertaining the vagabonds. They found some old stuffed animals tucked away in the attic for each one of them to curl up next to when they took their nap. With food and love for nourishment, they blossomed into cute, cuddly youngsters. And Babe soon came to love them, almost mothering them with her jealous attention.
Oh, and did I forget to mention one important fact that arose during the search? The four orphaned children that became a part of our family were new neighbors. The cuddly, fuzzy baby kittens belongs to a neighborhood cat who unwisely deposited her family under our front doorsteps for safe-keeping. Whether she met her demise in the form of cars on our busy street or just what happened to her, we were never able to find out. She never came back to claim her children as far as we know.
We did actually find a couple of the young kits wandering around the yard before we figured out they weren’t the only ones crying. When one of them tried to squeeze its way out from behind a small opening between the house and the front steps, we were able to find their birthplace. Moving the cement steps was no easy task for my husband, son and one of his friends. They used a couple of crowbars and a couple of seasoned decorator boards to pry the steps up enough so that the remaining two babies were able to crawl out into the sunlight.
Feeding them was a problem. At first we tried to give them regular milk tied in little squares of cloth and squeezing it into their mouths, but that procedure didn't work too well. After talking with the veterinarian clinic (our official authority), one of the staff provided us with a special formula and we filled doll baby bottles. At first they did not accept this type of nutrition very well, but soon they were taking an ounce or two. They gained a little weight, and a couple of them even opened their eyes. Their fur began to fluff out a little and we were sure that they would grow into healthy, playful little kits.
But that was not to be. Since the mother did not return to nurse her young brood and provide them with natural immunities, they were all very susceptible to the germs and diseases of their new world. We sadly watched them as they fought to cling to life, but unfortunately, one by one they died, all before the month of June was out. The vet said their death was most likely the result of the early exposure and lack of food that they had received during the first few days of life.
And now, it was our turn to cry.
