911 From the Post Office

Do you ever see wild animals?

I live in an area that is considered “rural” for granting purposes but “town” or “city” for its layout. Specifically, I’m in Latrobe, Pennsylvania, aka Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, since Fred Rogers was originally from here.

The town celebrates that fact with wooden cutouts of various characters and a bronze statue of him seated on a park bench (a favorite spot for selfie takers). Though I don’t think Daniel Tiger counts as “wildlife,” we do have some examples of animals running about.

Actual animals (not the cartoon kind) are limited to squirrels that run across electrical wires as their own private highways, mice, rabbits, and chipmunks that can be seen scurrying through the garden, and a very rare opossum sighting. There is also an occasional hint of skunk in the night air.

Of course, I’m more worried about the people who sometimes devolve into less than human creatures. Walking to the Post Office one day, I heard someone yelling, asking some celestial power to “f*** everything” and…well, I couldn’t make out any other specific words, but he was clearly angry at the universe and wanted everyone in a several block radius to be aware of that.

He was walking down Main Street, continuing his yelling. I was about two blocks ahead, hand on my phone and ready to dial 911 as I turned to check his progress and proximity, and looked ahead to see who else might be in his path.

By the time I had gotten to the Post Office he had disappeared; whether he had returned home or had veered off down a side street, I couldn’t tell. Emerging from the PO, I heard nothing and didn’t see him again.

The unfortunate thing is that drugs and their use are as much a part of the neighborhood as the Banana Split. (The dessert originated in Latrobe, doncha know.)