If I had my way, my home would be free of all “smart home” technology. The so-called smart thermostat (about which I have much to say - stay tuned) would be replaced with a good old-fashioned Honeywell. My appliances would keep silent - especially the refrigerator, which if it’s so smart would know that you have to keep the door open in order to wipe down the shelves, but instead chimes at me relentlessly as soon as the door is open for more than five seconds. We’d get rid of the Google Home smart speaker and just Google things the old-fashioned way, with a phone or a computer. And the cameras. My gosh, the cameras.
Of all the technological innovations that have wormed their way into my house, I hate video surveillance cameras the most. Yes I know that they have their uses. I know that police can solve crimes with the aid of Ring or Arlo video footage. They can even prevent crimes. In 2018, my husband got an Arlo alert at 12:30 AM on a Sunday night. A person unknown to us had rung the doorbell several times and receiving no answer, had wandered around to the backyard, where video showed him peering into the patio doors and the back windows. We were in Montreal, hundreds of miles from home, and so we had no way to do anything to prevent this person from breaking in. It was some comfort that we were all together and that if the man did break in, he couldn’t hurt anyone. But we also didn’t want to return home to a ransacked house. When the man returned to the front door again, my husband used the remote communication feature to say “Can I help you? Do you need something?” The man didn’t respond, but he did go away. My husband called a few police colleagues and gave them the entry codes so that they could check the house and perhaps arrest any burglars who might attempt to ransack the joint. They visited every day for the whole time we were away, but the burglar never returned, that night or for the rest of the week.
The point here is that I do acknowledge the value of this technology. I’m pretty sure that our late night visitor was casing the place, and I think it’s very likely that he’d have broken in if my husband hadn’t scared him off. I understand why we have cameras. I concede that they are useful and even necessary. But they’re also extremely intrusive and downright creepy. I don’t want to be captured on video as I go about my daily business. I don’t want to be watched even if technically, I am watching myself.
*****
But maybe those cameras are more useful than I thought. Last Tuesday, I was working at my desk at home and when I looked out the window, I saw a black and white cat sitting calmly on top of my six-foot-high backyard fence (I also hate that fence but it came with the house). How, I wondered, did that cat get there? There’s nothing close enough to the fence for a cat to climb on, and yet there he was, placid and content, lord of all he surveyed.
I got up to get my phone so I could get a picture and when I came back, he was gone. I looked out another window to see if he was in the backyard, and there he was, sitting calmly on top of the back fence. In a span of thirty seconds then, this super-agile cat had scaled or jumped two fences, and positioned himself on top of two fence posts, all while taking the time to strike photo-ready poses. I wished I had gotten a photo, but I didn’t, and I thought that was the end of it.
I went about the rest of my day and didn’t think about that cat again, until my husband texted me late in the day. He had gotten Arlo video of the whole sequence of events: Cat approaches backyard gate and finding it closed, backs up a few feet and leaps, landing neatly on top of the gate and then stepping over a few feet to position himself on the fence post, which is where I came in. Cat then leaps down from the first fence post, darts across the backyard, and scales the next fence in just two quick moves, landing exactly on the fence post this time, a perfect vantage point from which to look for birds or rodents or other moving objects upon which to pounce. It was very entertaining. And that wasn’t all. Later that day, I watched video of a squirrel scheming and planning a way to get himself from the top of the fence to a birdfeeder suspended from a tree. Other squirrels have successfully breached this birdfeeder, but not this one. His frustration was apparent, and I felt sorry for him.
In a third video, a small gathering of birds enjoyed Costco’s proprietary birdseed blend from that same feeder. I wondered if they’d been roosting in nearby trees, waiting first for the cat and then the squirrel to go away.
You know, I really should just set up a squirrel feeder. I see no reason for this unwarranted and unjust preference for birds over squirrels. Squirrels need to eat, too. Squirrels have rights.
*****
When it comes to decorating and furnishing decisions, I usually get my way. My husband is a pretty selfless person, and he defers to my (obviously superior) judgment on aesthetics and design. On the subject of smart technology, though, he will not budge. He LOVES the stupid Google Nest thermostat, which I hate. He loves the Google Home smart speaker, and never misses an opportunity to ask it a question. I think we have more cameras than we need, but I don’t mention this because if I do, it just reminds him that there are still blind spots around the house and that he’s been meaning to install even more cameras. I choose the battles that I can win, and I’ll win 95 percent of them, but even before the Montreal incident, which occurred in 2018, the cameras were a lost cause. I have reconciled myself to their presence. I’m learning to live with them.
And I might even be learning to embrace them, a tiny tiny bit.
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