(*) “Wendy” is not her real name.
As you know, I previously named the wooded path in the park that is my #1 throw-and-fetch location Chloë’s Lane. I am now re-naming another neighborhood thoroughfare, the northern side of Emerson Avenue between Discovery Park’s southern entrance and the bus stop at the intersection with Magnolia Boulevard. Just as the City of Seattle could rename one block of Atlantic Street outside Safeco Field Edgar Martinez Drive in honor of the Mariners slugger, I am renaming this block of Emerson Avenue “Wendy* Way.”
Note: I am using an asterisk (*) here as a visual reminder that “Wendy” is NOT the real name of the person after whom I’m renaming this block. I deliberately changed her name for two reasons: 1) to protect “Wendy*s” real identity and not embarrass her. and 2) for alliteration with “Way,” a peculiarly Seattle term for streets of varying length and degree of importance. But I digress.
Walking Wendy* Way is my favorite part of any stroll. That’s because “Wendy*,” who is one of our elderly neighbors, frequently scatters food in the grassy area between the sidewalk and the park fence. I assume this is her effort to feed birds, rabbits, feral cats and raccoons that might pass by, not for foraging by local pets. However, being civic-minded, I am trying to help out “Wendy” by doing my part to gobble up as much of her deposits as I can, at the same time protecting all other local dogs from themselves and their few remaining lupine instincts. I generously leave a little lettuce behind for them.
Most of Wendy*s contributions along Wendy* Way come from the grain family: crusts of toast and French bread, sometimes a fully dressed piece of Italian sub roll or a wedge of angel cake. Yum! Once in a while, if I really get lucky, I can see the remains of a sandwich. The other day, however, Wendy* went over the top, laying out a veritable smorgasbord of hard-boiled eggs, sliced cheeses, cold cuts and a large hunk of Roquefort or Gorgonzola (Heather wouldn’t let me near it, so I cannot be certain what variety I sniffed from yards away). It was hard for me to figure out why: Wendy* was either laying out Part 1 of a pre-Thanksgiving buffet for the homeless or just clearing out her refrigerator. I doubt we will ever get to the bottom of it.
Wendy* doesn’t leave something out there every day, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have to check, just to be sure. Policing Wendy* Way has become just one more part of my daily job, with an occasional prize for the effort.