Dennis the Menace lived in my neighbourhood

Dennis the Menace, Internet

His name is not Dennis but Rhys. He is five years old and blonde.  Everyone knew him in the neighbourhood.  He pulled out sticking mails out of everyone’s mailboxes and left them lying around in the street, pulled out plants and more--- which went in one ear and right out the other as my neighbour enumerated them.

As I was new in the area, the old lady next to my house cautiously told me to watch out for Rhys lest I got caught off guard by his menace.  I had never met him until he climbed the jacaranda tree in my front yard and yelled out for help because he could not climb down the tree. As my mother who was not tall enough, though right next to the tree, could not help him, he kept on screaming at the top of his lungs calling out for his Mum who lived just across the road opposite my house.  His Mum did not come to his rescue.  My father did. From a wretched state, a mischievous grin shone on the boy's face.  The reaction on my father's face was as I saw it from my main bedroom window was a priceless picture.

The jacaranda tree in  my front yard. except for the hedge in front, all the other plants were non existent  then

Well, the above scenario was Rhys welcoming menace for my parents who were so focused in gardening then that they scarcely or hardly responded to Rhys what seemed to be an endless inquiries.

When I came out, Rhys walked towards me and gave me the friendliest smile I bet he could ever give to anyone he wanted to make friends with.  He began talking to me in  an endless chatter which I could not understand 110% with his child and Aussie accent.  Possibly having been acquainted with Rhys as my father had done much gardening  since the day I bought the house, he warned me not to be friendly so as not to encourage the boy to hang around my property, the front yard of which was technically without a fence on the side of his street which made it very accessible not only for the neighbours’ dogs or cats, but also for Rhys,

One day, I was cutting the grass with a hand mower that just stopped for no reason.  As I stooped down to check what was going on, I caught sight of Rhys standing just on the nature strip.  He probably was quite hesitant to go inside my yard as my father planted rows of poinsettia that served as hedge.

The mower stopped because a short twig got caught in between its blade. When I resumed cutting the grass, I noticed Rhys was gone.  The next thing I knew however, was he already standing right next to me. He went through the front side of my yard which had a Photinia hedge.  I felt a bit amused because he did not go through any of the gaps in between the poinsettias nor step across them but rather went around the corner till he got to in front of my house..
 

I continued cutting the grass but with a bit of difficulty as the grass had grown tall because of too much rain during the last few days. Rhys blurted out he could cut the grass for me.  Wow, what a little chivalrous fellow! I laughed and said a big NO outright—this mower was not meant to be touched by kids and further added  this might cost him his legs or toes He did not protest but hang around and asked one question after another regarding spiders, sticks, and plants.

As I had been warned beforehand of his habit of destroying plants and pulling out new plants and seeing him about to touch the creeping jasmine I just transplanted from the pot to a spot near the paper bark tree, I became alarmed, I told him that plants like people got angry too. I also said that if plants get hurt, they would stop growing and eventually die and strongly emphasized  that I wanted that jasmine to flourish because it was given to me by my missionary friend whose hair colour was the same as his. Hearing these, he gently touched all the plants in the yard asking me at the same time to name them one by one.I wouldn't mind this. After I finished cutting the grass, I told him it was time for me to go inside the house and he left.

Another time as I had finished watering the plants and about to go inside the house, Rhys came again this time with his cat.  He asked me if he could go inside my house with his cat. I said No, not with his cat.  He disappointingly asked why.  Don't I like cats?  I replied I am allergic to it.  As he could not understand what I meant, I told him I was going to have an asthma attack and at the same time dramatised how breathing could become difficult for me and caused my death if he would insist of bringing his cat inside my house.  After staging that  drama, I rhetorically asked him he definitely wouldn't  like me to die, would he.  He shook his head from left to right— I am his friend and Sue, the girl with a red car is not and hates him.  I told him I would just go inside the house then for awhile.  When I came out again, Rhys was sitting in my porch by himself.  I asked where his cat was.  He said he took it back home. I laughed inside and told to myself—unlike one of the poinsettias which wilted because he was so naughty to have pulled this out, at least he did not want me to die.

One mid day while I was washing the dishes, Rhys knocked on my door.  I was expecting one of my family members who were visiting that time would answer the door for me, but no one did because my father had told them not to and further said that Rhys would soon go away. When I looked out through the window, I saw him, with his sister, walking away as he pulled out one of the bulbs which we just planted to line the pathway leading to the entrance of my house.  When I went out later, I saw scattered individual sticks of my walis tingting (broom), Shall I knock at his door and tell his Mum?

About half an hour later, Rhys came back, this time knocking much harder on my door.  I answered the door and asked him why he pulled out my plants and wrecked my broom.  He did not answer.  I asked if it was because no one answered the door when he knocked at the first instance. He nodded his head seemingly with a bit of shame.  I explained to him at that time of the day, we like Spanish people, were having a siesta and asked him to go back home.  Without any drama, he left with some kind of disappointment

Few days later , Rhys came again ---possibly curious upon hearing the sound of the welding machine and the chatter of my family members who were all busy in,the making of fence.  This time, he asked me if he could see my backyard. I told him a lot of activity was going on there because we’re making a gate and fence and with him barefooted, he might step on something sharp and thereby injure his feet.  He left straightaway and quickly came back wearing slippers.  I laughed and told him how about we could just talk as I raked dried leaves.  He agreed and helped a bit in cleaning my lawn.  When the sun became too hot, I stopped and asked him to go back to his house.  I told him I, with members of my family would leave soon to pick up some plants in my mother’s house.  When we came back late afternoon on that same day, we found him sitting at the porch waiting. My family laughingly said, what’s this-- an addiction?  I also laughed and talked to my little friend.

Soon the fence and the gate were finished.  My property was secured so to speak from dogs and cats, but not from  Rhys! That is, going  through the next neighbour’s gate and then under the conifers dividing my property from the neighbours.  I told him this might not be a good idea  because my next neighbour might get upset with him, I also said he might also hurt his eyes with the needles of the conifers. And he said .he could also get bitten by spiders! I affirmed what he said but also said with the exclusion of garden spiders.  I told him, he should come only if I was in the front yard and that if he sees my gate closed that meant I was out and no one was in the house.   He said okay.

I did not see much of him again. However,  I could hear him crying out loud often.  I think his Mum was keeping him in the house now. Was she getting embarrassed?  My other neighbours, as I was told, usually dragged the boy to his Mum to complain of his wrongdoings.  I never did.  I think I must have played enough with my nephews and nieces that I saw them in Rhys eyes..

To end my story, one rainy afternoon, as I came out and just stood at the porch to watch the rain falling in the garden, I saw Rhys in front of his house struggling to push a shopping trolley. I waved at him and he waved back.  That was it and I went back inside the house.

The following morning I saw the trolley in front of my gate.  It was not long  and soon  I got acquainted not only with Rhys, but also with his two year old brother named Haydn whom he also took in my yard at one stage and his sister whose name I forgot and eventually with his Mum and Dad.  

I became busy when I accepted a contract research work, I rarely see Rhys nor other members of his family.  However, when the family was about to leave the neighbourhood,  Rhys Mum knocked on my door. She was returning the white top she borrowed from me when she told me she had to go  to court and all her clothing were casuals..  She said she had already washed and ironed it. I laughed and  I told her she did not have to return it because I already gave it to her.  She insisted that for me to have it back.

Weird enough, I dreamed about all of them the night before.  I felt a kind of sadness in my heart as I saw Rhys Mum walked out of my gate. I surely would miss them, particularly my little friend whom my neighbours called some kind of Dennis the Menace.