Meet Black Dog.  She is a purebred, or nearly so, German Shepherd that was abandoned a month ago in my neighborhood.  She is still here, living off the land and whatever the concerned residents leave out for her.  For the first few days, she would sit by the road and watch every car go by, waiting for her family to drive up and save her.   She is a bit wilder these days, but you can tell from her demeanor that she was once a cherished part of a family.  Animal Services doesn’t have the time to try to capture her - they tell me there are hundreds more just like her out there.

Meet Bob, a manager at Rite-Aid.  I was just buying some Tylenol and he opened up another lane for me.  I recognized the name on his badge from my searches of homes lost to foreclosure, and averted my eyes.  Weird.

Meet Jose, a crewman with Charter.  We have never met, but he was in charge of moving some cable lines on my Mayberry property, and we talked often.  He was cool, professional, and got the job done on time and on budget.  A week later he was a TD.

As we become a community of the foreclosed, it is getting personal.  It isn’t just the speculators, the flippers, the Realtors run amok, or the dilettante developers anymore.  It is your dentist, your produce manager at Raley’s, your mechanic, and most of all, your neighbors who are the casualties now.  And Black Dog.