"…remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird."

Last night, Joel informed me that our next door neighbor is moving out. This really has no effect on me since I only saw the guy approximately ten times in the last three years of us living side by side. I compare this with the neighbors on the other side of us which I see about ten times a day.

My final conclusion is that he is terminally ill. Although upon first moving in I had several working theories. Initially, I presumed he was head of some neo-nazi group. I formed this theory after he made a racial slur the first day we moved in. Soon after we moved in we learned he was unemployed and we noticed that he NEVER leaves his house. I mean I guess if you don't have a job, you can't go out very often. He hardly ever has any visitors, except for his mom, who comes every night and walks his two dogs. His mom mows the yard, plays with the dogs, and I'm assuming she must deliver his groceries and haul his trash (unless he sneaks it out and puts it into our trash can at night, another theory).

Then I thought maybe he had a meth lab in the basement, and that he was the drug lord for all of the Midwest. And that he never left the house to maintain a low profile and his mother was the distributor. I was waiting for the fire from the explosion of chemicals in the basement to bring out the truth. But nothing that happened in the next three years supported this theory. The only thing we came to realize is that the guy does not pay for heat. As soon as it gets cold outside, you can smell his fireplace burning (one of the only times you see him during the year is when he is restocking his firewood).

A few months back, my cat didn’t come home one night. The next day, I called outside for her and she didn’t come. Finally I heard her squealing from the backyard. I realized she must be trapped in the creepy neighbor’s garage. I was wary about knocking on his door as I had never been inside his house or even close to the porch. He reminded me of Boo Radley from To Kill A Mockingbird, with his shades ALWAYS drawn shut. After telling me that it wouldn’t be possible for my cat to be in his garage, he finally opened it. I felt like I shouldn’t look for he may have to kill me after I saw what was in the garage. But out ran Abbey, from what looked to be a completely normal looking garage.

When these theories didn't pan out, I had to assume the back-up theory, the much less exciting, sad theory, that he must have cancer or AIDS or something. Of course there is always the possibility that he is just an umemployed guy, who doesn't like to socialize, except for with his overbearing mother who still babies him. I wish him and his mother well wherever they go. Hopefully someone equally as weird and interesting will move in so that I’ll have more stories to tell. But for now, with him gone and the house across the street empty my cute little neighborhood is beginning to look like a ghost town.