Page 3 of Indiana Idealist
It’s too late anyway, Camille has already closed and locked her front door.
I stalk down the porch steps and head toward the path through the woods that leads back to my house. Charlotte is hot on my heels. Of course, she comes now that Camille isn’t around to see my loyal pig being obedient.
After we walk back into my cabin, I head straight towards the bathroom to take a cold shower. There’s no denying that Camille Ellis won this round of battle. I’ll just need to make sure that I win the war.
3
CAMILLE
It shouldn’t surprise me at all that Leo Sullivan keeps a pig in his house. That tree hugger probably walks around naked all the time and bathes in the creek once a week. I grin to myself as I decide that he likely refers to the stream as a ‘crick.’
The rational side of my mind knows that, in reality, Leo isn’t unkempt at all. In fact, he always seems to be impeccably groomed, and the few times I’ve caught a whiff of his scent as it breezes by me, it isn’t at all the granola and natural deodorant odor I would expect. He actually smells like fresh pine and a mysterious masculine scent that is rather pleasant––although I would never admit that to him.
I carefully move the living room window’s sheer slightly aside to avoid being caught if he turns back as I watch him disappear down the path into the woods. His adorable pet trails obediently behind him.
There’s no denying that Charlotte is cute. I’m just not sure how sanitary it is to have a traditional barnyard animal in one’s home. I do know that the huge pig farm that lies a few miles up the road smells horrendous when the wind blows in this direction, and I wouldn’t want even a fraction of that odor inside my house.
Once the duo is out of sight, I plop down at my desk and fire up my laptop. For weeks, I’ve been spending all of my spare time digging up resources for how to reduce my golf course’s environmental impact.
I’m truly not the heartless shrew that Leo seems to believe me to be, but I don’t want him to think that I’m taking these measures because of him. His haughty attitude makes me want to scream and rail against him, but he’s right about the need for my golf course to reduce its environmental footprint.
Honestly, I’ve been working so hard and so long to get to this point in my life that I may have overlooked some of the issues my success has caused. But that ends now. I don’t want any baby frogs or cute turtles to die because my thriving business requires perfectly manicured, bright green grass.
Now that Leo has brought the runoff problems to my attention, I intend to do whatever it takes to remedy the situation. Based on my research, it’s starting to look like it may cost a fortune, but I am determined to find a way to make things right.
When my vision starts to go blurry from reading through environmental impact reports, I relieve the monotony by doing a Google search on pot-bellied pigs.
Based on the articles I’m finding, pot-bellied pigs can be affectionate, playful, and clean pets, if they are properly trained. It turns out that Leo was right about this, too.Darn it!
Scrolling through images has me grinning at the silly animals. I’m halfway convinced to adopt one as a pet when an incoming email notification at the bottom of my screen catches my attention.
I click to open the ominous looking message from Don R. Waddles, Esq. The attachment form on the environmental attorney’s letterhead is a cease and desist letter, filed by my least favorite neighbor, Leo Sullivan.
Narrowing my eyes at the screen until the man’s name is my sole focus, I grit my teeth together as I say aloud to the empty room, “This means war.”
4
LEO
I’m surprised I haven’t yet heard from Camille. I figured she would throw a full hissy fit about the letter from my lawyer. Granted, the letter is just a warning to stop her irresponsible environmental infractions before legal action is taken, but I’d been hopeful that it would be enough to scare her into submission.
Honestly, I doubt that she’ll simply back down and immediately stop using the harmful chemicals on her grass, but sometimes the threat of a lawsuit is enough of a deterrent to get people to see reason. It’s not like I’m asking for anything outlandish. Not polluting our local creek that feeds into a larger river downstream is the bare-minimum expectation of any responsible citizen.
Charlotte and I take a long walk through the sustainable Christmas tree farm I started a few years ago in the large field next to my home. It’s almost time for customers to start coming to dig up their trees for the holiday season.
I love re-planting and taking care of these beautiful trees, and it feels good to know that my business is helping, rather than harming, the world. If Camille Ellis would be rational for a minute, she might realize that being ‘green’ isn’t a bad thing.
Not only are thoughts of the annoying woman intruding on my peaceful outdoor time with Charlotte and our aromatic trees, but the actual woman is stomping across the damp earth in my direction.
As soon as she’s within yelling distance, she shakes a paper in my direction. “What is the meaning of this?”
Her shouting definitely ruins the calming ambiance. In a neutral voice, I answer, “It’s to convince you to do the right thing.”
Camille looks down and gives Charlotte a much warmer greeting than I received. “Hello, sweet baby. Are you actually wagging your tail at me?”
The woman sounds delighted that the pig is obviously so happy to see her.
My lips morph into a snarl as I realize that she’s right. Charlotte normally only gets excited to see me, but she’s obviously thrilled by Camille’s sudden intrusion on our morning walk.
