7:30 Sunday morning.
A knock on the door at that hour means emergency to me. I am half asleep but scoot downstairs to answer the door. A woman in her forties or fifties stands opposite the screen. In an accent I cannot place (could be French Canadian?) she asks if she could have some water for her fuzzy small dog. As I do not know what time it is initially, my first instinct is that this is a joke of some sort. I am expecting an emergency after all. When I come to my senses I tell her no. She asks again. She wants to use the hose by the vegetable garden. I tell her no again as so many people visit here that were I to help her, I would be opening the gates to bedlam. She begins to apologize.
I close the door and I wonder: will she stop at any one else's house at 7:30 on a Sunday morning and think it is okay to knock and ask for water for the thirsty pile of lint. How would she respond if it happened at her house? I hear her complaining that I did not help her as she climbs into a truck. She must have joined her husband for some early fishing. They seem to have all the gear. They should have included more H2O.