That pretty well describes my relationship with Mr. Kiatkous. He got an electric bill and a Social Security check monthly, and a flyer from the local grocery store weekly. When I first started delivering his mail there were a few catalogs for Georgianna Kiatkous, but she must have left, because over the years I didn't notice any more mail in her name. He lived in a small blue house, overgrown with weeds and surrounded by "No Trespassing" signs. The closest neighbors lived just out of sight down the road.

But, what about that check still sitting in his mailbox? He hadn't been to his box to pick it up, and he hadn't picked up the grocery store flyer from the week before, either. So, it had been at least a week since he had picked up his mail. Those stories you hear about the mail carrier noticing a full mailbox and rescuing someone who was ill don't really happen that often. Usually, it is too late. I didn't want to think of what it would be like to find someone after they had been in a house for over a week. That happened a few years ago on another route. An old lady died in her house, and no one found her for a few weeks. She was a bit eccentric - she lived in a small house with a fenced-in yard, hated her neighbors, and kept her mailbox locked so they couldn't steal her mail. The mail carrier couldn't see that her mail was piling up in the box. When they finally found her, she had been partially devoured by her numerous pet cats. 

I was worried about Mr. Kiatkous, so I decided to see if the neighbor, Mr. Stamey, would check on him. I drove up the road to Mr. Stamey's house, but no one was home. With visions of the old lady and her cats, I decided to go up to Mr. Kiatkous' house.

I went up his dirt driveway, past the "No Trespassing" signs. His truck, an old rusty Ford F-150, was sitting in weeds that had grown up to the door handles. It hadn't been driven for a while. There seemed to be a trail where someone had walked through the weeds up to the house, but as I parked I saw a skinny German Shepherd dog run down it. The dog must have made the trail. Most dogs on my mail route will come up and want a pat, or they start barking to defend their territory. This dog just ducked down, and crept away through the weeds. 

I walked up a path towards the back porch of the house, watching out for the dog. The path was strewn with garbage. Food wrappers, bones, chicken carcasses, and old cans were all over. When I got up to the back porch, I saw old cans there, too. Mr. Kiatkous must have been saving them to take to the scrap metal yard. I went up past the cans to the back door. As I stepped up on the porch, I noticed the dog hiding under the edge of the house, watching me.

I knocked on the back door, hesitantly, then louder. There was no answer, so I looked through the door into the kitchen. I could see an old Formica and chrome table, and two rusty chrome chairs. The table was covered with more  cans. The rest of the kitchen that I could see was empty, with bare dingy white walls, and a painted floor. A track of old dirt made a path on the floor from the kitchen door, through the kitchen, and into the next room.

I went around the outside of the house to the front porch. There was no answer at the front door, so I looked through the window there. It was a lot darker on this side of the house, but I could still see the dirt track from the kitchen. In the room I could see one ragged upholstered chair, and a small table with a television set. The box from the television set was still on the floor. A large gray cat jumped out of the box, then turned around and looked at me. 

I noticed one more window at the edge of the porch. It was too dark to see through, so I had to get really close, and cup my hands around my eyes. I could just barely make out some kind of rounded shape in the middle of the room. It looked almost like one of those braided oval rugs, made of a dark brown material. I thought I could make out something laying on the rug. A horrible smell came from the window, and I stepped back. 

I wasn't sure what I had seen in the room, so I held my breath, and looked in again. I looked intently at the shape, trying to see through the hazy glass. Suddenly, my eyes focused; I wasn't seeing a shape on the floor - I was seeing the back of someone's head, just inches from my face! I jumped back, just noticing thin, close cropped hair and thick rolls of fat around the neck. 

I stood on the porch a moment, and thought about what I should do. Surely someone couldn't be dead, sitting bolt upright in a chair by the window. But, if they were alive, why didn't they answer the door? And, what about the terrible smell? I wasn't going to look back through that window. If the person in there had been sitting for over a week, I couldn't do much to help them. I left, and went on up the road to another neighbor's house. It was Mr. Stamey's daughter. She said they hadn't seen Mr. Kiatkous for a while, but he usually kept to himself. He had a history of heart trouble, though, so they would call the sheriff's department to check on him.

I drove by later that day on my way home, expecting to see vehicles from the Emergency service or the funeral home, but couldn't see anything going on at the house. The next day, someone had picked up Mr. Kiatkous' mail. I went to the neighbor's house to see what had happened to Mr. Kiatkous. Mr. Stamey was out working in his yard. I asked him what had happened at Mr. Kiatkous' house, but he didn't seem to want to talk about it. Finally, I asked, "How is Mr.Kiatkous?"

Mr. Stamey paused for a second, then stammered, "Kiatkous, uh, well... Kiatkous is dead." 

I was shocked. That must have been his body I saw when I looked through the window. I said, "Oh, that's terrible! What happened?"

Mr. Stamey continued, "Kiatkous had some heart trouble. He went in to the hospital to get that checked, and they found he had diabetes; so bad that he had gangrene in both legs. They admitted him, but he died there a few days later."
I said, "He died? In the hospital?"

"Yes, about a week ago".

Who had I seen in the window then? If it wasn't Mr. Kiatkous, who or what was it? 

I said, "I thought that there might be someone in the house yesterday, and your daughter said she would call someone to check it out."

He said, "Yes. She called me later, and I went over."

I asked, "Was anyone there? I thought I might have seen someone in the window."

"Ye -e - e -e s", Mr. Stamey drawled slowly. "There was someone there; Kiatkous' sister, Georgianna." I was stunned. 

Mr Stamey continued, "There's something not right with her mind, and she stays in all the time. Kiatkous took care of her, but when he died no one knew she was there. She hasn't left that house for years. She's gotten huge, obese, and I don't think she could leave on her own if she wanted to."

"Kiatkous did about everything to take care of her. I didn't even know he had died until yesterday, so Georgianna has been alone in that house alone ever since then. She was just about out of food, and hadn't been able to clean herself. The smell was terrible when I went in. I guess the hospital didn't know that Kiatkous had someone at home, and he didn't have any other relations around. Hard to say what might have happened if someone hadn't gotten in to check on her."
 
 

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