A Man of Many Faces

One warm, summer day, about a week after the house next door officially closed, I was informed that there was a man on my front porch who wanted to see me.  I went outside, lo and behold, it was TAD (The A$$h@le Developer).  We recognized each other immediately.  He had rescued me once; a very pregnant damsel in distress when my car died at an intersection and I was too pregnant to do anything but waddle around and tell my then five year old son to stay in the car.  That had been ten years ago.  TAD was glad I recognized him and remembered his good deed.  After a brief walk down memory lane, he informed me that he had bought the house next door.  The first thing he did was brag to me about the great price he got and how he might just turn around and sell it for more since he had bought it so cheap.  Well, there's nothing like someone bragging about ripping off your neighbor to get you started on the wrong foot.  When I asked him about bulldozing the house,  he hemmed and hawed and said he didn't really want to, but there was a lot of damage to the house but he could rent it...blah blah blah.  I've been in the house several times and it was in immaculate condition from what I had seen.  I guess it never occurred to him that I had actually been in the house. Then he starts telling me about how the adult kids were fighting at the closing and that's why he didn't even show up, he had signed the papers early.  He wanted to stay out of family politics.  This is the point where any good feelings about TAD and his rescue had been erased and replaced with suspicion and mistrust.  People tell you all about themselves if you listen carefully.  I was not liking what TAD had to say about the kind of person he was.  Suddenly, TAD was around everyday.  In the mornings, when I left the house, there was TAD.  In the evenings, when I left the house, there was TAD.  And he always wanted to chat.  He always wanted to know: What I was doing?  Where was I going?  What places did I go?  Sometimes, in the beginning,  I got away before the interrogations.  But he learned fast, and stood in front of my bike, or blocked the path to my house. If I tried to walk around him he'd just sweep a paw around me and squeeze me to his side, not letting go while he kept asking questions. It was like having a really nice stalker.  TAD is shaped like a football tackle, or a bear.  He's a tall, blond with a ruddy complexion from too much sun.  In fact, in my mind, I imagine that TAD was either the captain of the football team or the captain's dense side kick. I could totally imagine him stuffing nerds in lockers.  He was a high school bully all grown up, but he still seemed to be a bully.   One hot summer day, as he stood in front of my bike, making it impossible to walk the dog, I mentioned to TAD that we were going on vacation in July.  We would be gone for three weeks.  He quit coming around, and I should have known that was a problem.  He had gotten the information that he wanted.