Free Death By A HoneyBee by Abigail Keam Page A

  Baby followed his every move, padding after him on his oversize paws, hoping that Matt would drop a morsel or two.   The world was settling into night.   I could hear a hoot owl combine calls with a screech owl’s high-pitched ones across the river.   It was peaceful, but my mind whirled up possible scenarios waiting for me.   As well intended as Matt and Shaneika were, I knew this was something I had to fix . . . and fast.
         After Shaneika left, Matt ensconced himself in the cabana.   Knowing that Matt would be preoccupied with exploring his digs, I dressed in black, pulled my hair up into a dark hat and left the house quietly.   I didn’t want Matt to know where I was going.   After forty minutes of driving to the north side of town, I found myself in front of Richard Pidgeon’s house.   There was only one light on inside.   I drove past a second time to see if anyone was walking a dog or jogging at this late hour.   Driving past a third time, I stopped the car.    I quietly transferred all the Pidgeons’ garbage from the garbage can to the back of my vehicle.   I looked around again and then sped away.  
        When I got home, I hid the garbage bags in the tool shed.   I would go through them after Matt went to work.   I knew if I got caught going through the Pidgeons’ garbage, it would look bad.   I could only hope the garbage man came early each collection day, and Tellie and Taffy would never know that someone was stealing their garbage . . . and hopefully their secrets.   Most people are too lazy to burn documents that could implicate them.   They simply throw them away, thinking that the local dump will hide their sins.   I knew better.
       I showered and went gratefully to bed, sleeping soundly.  
       Awaking before noon, I found Baby in his crate where Matt had placed him.   He had turned his water bowl over, and what appeared to be remnants of his breakfast stained his blanket.   I let him outside, keeping a watchful eye until he tinkled.   With water features surrounding the house including a deep pool, I needed to make sure that the clumsy puppy didn’t fall into one of them.   Baby was still learning how to walk on his oversized paws and could easily stumble on his long ears.   Since he didn’t want to come back inside the house, I decided that now was as good as time as any to go through the Pidgeons’ garbage.   Dressed in ratty cotton pj’s and shoes with holes in them, I padded to the shed with Baby following.   I hadn’t even combed my hair yet.    But it didn’t matter, going through garbage.   I sat in the grass with piles of rotting food and limp paper about me as Baby tried to roll in it.   Finally, I had to put Baby in the tool shed so I could have some peace.   I was irritated that I had forgotten gloves.   After twenty-five minutes of going through nasty, stinking trash, I found nothing.   Not wanting to be discovered in my theft, I burned all the paper and put the organic stuff in the compost pile, hiding it deep within.  
       I finally released Baby from the shed.   Angered by his confinement, he would not look at me when I commanded him to follow, but sat in a stubborn hunch.   “Baby, we both stink.   Let’s go for a swim!”   Betting on his fear of abandonment, I kept walking up the gravel road.   When I looked back, Baby was reluctantly following me, sniffing the ground.      
       Once back at the house, I pulled off my pj’s and jumped in the pool.   Baby excitedly barked and growled at the edge, but wouldn’t come in.   Finally, he lay down, resting his dark muzzle on his paws, expressive brown eyes following me.   I floated on my back staring at the trees and cloudy sky.   But even someone as self-centered as I am eventually gets tired of dwelling on one’s problems.   I climbed out of the pool, washed in the outdoor shower, ate breakfast, and cleaned the kitchen and great room.   I finally got around