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.

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