Best Neighbor Ever.

There is a man named Bill who lives 3 houses down from my parents on the Rideau Canal. The level of neighborliness he displayed this past Saturday was absolutely remarkable. Which means worthy of remark. Which means I am now going to remark upon it.

Our dock is collapsible, and every fall it is dismantled section by section and brought into shore. Sometime over the course of the winter, one of the sections disappeared off our property. There are several theories. My father is convinced that two snowmobilers threw ropes over it and pulled away in the middle of the night. The neighbors, however, noticed no footprints on our property or near the water at any time. My mother, Janet and I are more prone to believe the section was washed away by accident, as the canal never actually froze last winter - but my father is sticking to his guns. So I am taking this opportunity to put out an APB for, as I hope the media will begin calling them, the "Amphibious skidoo sectional dock section thieves". Sometimes people don't want a whole dock. There's obviously a terrific niche on the black market for this sort of thing.

My father fashioned a ramp to take the place of the missing section prior to our arrival and was able to secure one section of the dock successfully. The wind was ferocious on Saturday, and the water very choppy as a result. Our boat wasn't in the water yet, and we decided we'd need one to properly construct the dock. So my father said simply "I'm going for a boat" and disappeared into the woods. About 10 minutes later, the sound of an outboard drew our attention to Dad and Bill coming around the bend towards us in a little fishing craft.

We hadn't seen Bill yet this trip, and after pleasantries were exchanged he jumped out of the boat with no shoes on - straight on to a pile of razor-sharp zebra mussels. The grimace on his face made me want to cry, even though I'd already stepped on a bunch of them. As the boat bobbed around like a rubber ducky in a hot tub, we realized we'd need to secure it before we continued. We docked the boat and Bill walked, nay limped, all the way back to his house to get an anchor. Then he proceeded to guide our team of 5 in the proper way to piece it all together while my father drifted in the boat which we eventually anchored to a nearby rock.

My Dad is a bit ill at the moment, and we weren't the handiest crew to ever visit the Portland shore, so Bill's unexpected help was beyond a Godsend. After over an hour of standing tiptoe in the lake, diving for lost wrenches, whacking our naked torsos against galvanized metal we finally got the bastard in place. When we offered Bill a drink for his troubles, he scurried home quickly, claiming he was horribly hung over and had almost lost his cottage the night before in a poker game - adding to the deed's legendary status. Well done, Bill. We appreciate it.