If there's somethin' strange in the neighborhood
Who ya gonna call... the Kardashians
There's somethin' weird and it don't look good
Who ya gonna call....the Kardashians
You might recognize that as the theme song from Ghostbusters, well except for the Kardashian part, of course. I couldn't help myself. So what do the Kardashians and the Ghostbusters theme song have in common, you might be asking? Read on to find out.
To begin, I admit that I have made a few snide remarks, now and again, about my infamous neighbors, the Kardashians. Come on, who hasn't? But the truth is, they settled into Hidden Hills long before I did, much like the rattlesnakes I run into in my garden, more often than I'd like. Using that premise, it is I who invaded their territory, not the other way around, So perhaps I need to stop dissing them, as tempting as it can be. Truthfully, I owe them a huge debt of gratitude, and here's why.
The story begins very early one morning, a few weeks ago. Catherine is in charge of taking Fitzy on his daily morning walks, which she never misses. She is the best little sister a pug could have (she is 9 and he is approaching 12, a tween, next week). They head out every weekday at 6:45 sharp for a 30-minute walk. In hand, Catherine has Fitzy on his leash, a to-go breakfast I pack for her with care, and the loudest whistle you have ever heard, affixed to a string she wears securely around her neck. Why the loud whistle around her neck? Well, that's in case of a coyote emergency, as we have come to call it. Not only do we have Kardashians and rattlesnakes in the neighborhood, but an abundance of coyotes.
On that particular morning, just as she was leaving, I had this gnawing feeling that something wasn't right. As she was walking away I sprinted to the front door to catch her and ran through the emergency coyote drill with her again. I reminded her of all the steps and she assured me that she knew exactly what to do should she see one. I waved goodbye, told her to be careful, and sent her (and Fitzy) on their way.
She returned 30 minutes later, seemingly without incident, as she always does. However, as it turned out, it was hardly a routine walk.
When she walked in the door she immediately told me that rather than completing her normal route with Fitzy, she had instead gotten in a strangers' car to get a ride home. I could hardly believe my ears. You NEVER get in a stranger's car, Catherine! Why would you do that?! As I reprimanded her, she looked upset and explained that although she knew that to be the unbreakable rule, the circumstances weren't what I thought. She said that a car had approached her on way back up our street and that the gentleman driving had informed her that there was a pack of coyotes in her path on the way home. He explained that was worried for her (and Fitzy's) safety. Before agreeing to get in his car, she showed him her trusty whistle and explained her fail-safe emergency coyote plan, which she told him she had practiced many times. He listened intently, she said, but continued to express concern for her and Fitzy nonetheless., She finally acquiesced, got into the car and he drove her up the street and dropped her safely at home.
I was upset and worried on so many levels when I heard what had happened. What a terrible choice she was forced to make, between getting into a stranger's car, as she had been told never to do, or risk running into a wild pack of coyotes. I felt terrible.
When I asked if she recognized the gentleman as a neighbor, she said no. I asked what kind of car he drove and she said a Range Rover. Well, at least that's good. Garin snapped back at me, "Mom, you can't judge a person by their car! Who knows what kind of guy this was." He was right, I suppose, but I wanted to believe that someone caring had done the right thing. Was that too much to ask?
Hours after the kids were safely at school, I was sitting at my desk when the doorbell unexpectedly rang. I went to the door to see who it was and saw (through my glass front doors) a rather buff and handsome gentleman, dressed all in black. He was accompanied by a young woman. I did not recognize either of them. However, in the background, I could see that they had arrived in a black Range Rover, the same kind of car that Catherine had described getting into hours earlier. I opened the door.
The well-mannered gentleman introduced himself as the head of security for Kourtney Kardashian and Scott Disick, who lives on the street directly behind me. He introduced the young lady he was with as the children's nanny. He went on to explain that he was the one who had picked up Catherine that very morning (the nanny had also been in the car at the time, apparently). He wanted to come by to introduce himself, as well as the nanny, and explain what had happened so that I would not be worried about Catherine, which he correctly assumed I was. I felt deeply grateful to him in that moment. I was grateful that he showed enough kindness and concern, upon seeing the pack of coyotes, to stop and offer to help out my daughter and our pug, in a potentially dangerous situation. I was also grateful that he had taken the time to stop by my home to introduce himself and to ease my mind. He didn't have to do that and we both knew it. He was the Kardashian's head of security, after all.
I thanked him profusely for his kindness and concern for my family. He may be paid to protect the Kardashians, but that morning, he protected my daughter and our beloved dog. for which I will be forever indebted.
Perhaps having the Kardashians as neighbors isn't exactly like having the Brady Bunch around the corner, but just maybe not such a bad thing after all?
In addition to her trusty whistle, nutritious breakfast and Fitzy, Catherine now carries my cell phone on her walks so she can reach me immediately when necessary.