While working at the college, Butch was afraid Buckwheat would bark and disturb the neighbors that fateful morning. I said to Butch, "I have a weird feeling about leaving Buckwheat home today, let's take him with us." Buckwheat tried to follow Butch and me outside the front door so Butch gently pushed Buckwheat back inside with his foot. After reaching work, just 30 minutes later, I received the phone call that changed my life forever. My home was burning with our beloved Buckwheat inside. Leading up to the arson, there were signs that something was not right in the neighborhood. As Butch and I moved our belongings into the house on the first day, our neighbors asked if we had any black friends while making it clear that people of color would not be welcome. When complaining about the shooting toward our house and thefts from our yard to the local law enforcement, I was told that I really did not belong there. Because I did not spend time finding out more about the place where I chose to retire, I paid in tears and fear for weeks, months and even years. Home grown terrorism within the United States is a reality.