When my wife Rosie and I were buying our place in Santa Barbara, the owner, Bob Ohman — right before leaving with most of our money — assured us we'd be getting a one-of-a-kind, truly exceptional neighbor. We assumed he was referring to Loretta Redd, next door. But it's just possible he was talking about Loretta's roommate, Norman.

Norman was a cat, though I'm not sure he realized that. He was certainly exceptional. He followed Loretta on long walks through the neighborhood. Or maybe she followed him. Neither of them was on a leash, so it was probably a joint effort. (Loretta would be the one reading The Atlantic.)

Norman usually had a lot to say — a kind of continual feline filibuster — though he sometimes got frustrated that we weren't bright enough to understand him. Still, when he was particularly annoyed, like after a stay in the cat hotel — he'd just stalk over and glare at us. As if it was our fault and he couldn't believe he had to live next to people who so frequently failed to perform up to his standards.

Loretta was considerably mellower. Of course, no one ever stuck her in a cat hotel. (As far as I know.) We'd scarcely moved in when she invited us to a catered gathering to meet all the neighbors. One birthday, she packed the SOhO restaurant with her many friends, springing for dinner and drinks and entertainment, accepting no gifts but contributions to Planned Parenthood — contributions that included the $1,500 I tried to pay her for work that improved both our homes. Loretta was equally generous with her time and always willing to help.

If you haven't read her novel, Front Row Rebel, you're in for a treat. It's based on her grandfather, who was an early film mogul. Like her grandfather, Loretta charted her own course. As a City Council candidate, for example, she decided she'd rather tell the truth than win. She did. And, of course, didn't.

Aside from being an accomplished novelist and a journalist, Loretta was a former captain in the Air Force. Captain Redd was also Doctor Redd, with a PhD in psychology and an expertise in crisis intervention. She'd been an entrepreneur, a foundation director, a speaker, an executive coach and a marshal at any number of demonstrations. I'd have found her annoyingly accomplished if she weren't every bit as wonderful a neighbor as Bob Ohman claimed. Unless he was talking about Norman. Either way, I know Bob regretted selling us the place and leaving. It's a nice home, with a sensational view, but I don't think it was the building he missed.

Because he'd been right. Living next to Loretta and Norman made our lives better. Norman was an early riser. When I was recovering from brain surgery and heading out for walks at 5:30 a.m., I'd often find Norman at my door waiting for me. A couple of months ago, he was out too early and a coyote dashed out of nowhere and got to him before he made it back in through his cat door. Loreta was devastated. Actually, the whole neighborhood was about ready to break out the torches and pitchforks and hunt down the damn coyote. I'm not a cat person. But I was a Norman person. I miss him.

Loretta's coyote was named cancer. It dashed out of nowhere too. Astonishingly, terrifyingly fast. The rest of us were stunned and powerless — desperate. In the face of the pain and the prognosis, Loretta was calm and dignified and deliberate and brave and always, always, completely Loretta. The damn cancer got her this morning before I could finish this piece about a neighbor I loved. Even before some friends — still bummed about Norman — had heard she was ill. The cancer didn't conquer her. She remained Loretta to the end, even making sure that her hummingbird feeders would continue to be filled. But the cancer took her from us. Leaving me with this impotent, inadequate column and a gaping hole where my all-time favorite neighbor used to be.

Check out Barry Maher's dark humor supernatural thriller, "The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon on Amazon. Sign up for his Substack at www.barrymaher.com.

To find out more about Barry Maher and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Christian Stahl at Unsplash