Good Fences Make Good Neighbors. Not Really.

Now that we are over the worst part of the time changing and Bean isn’t acting like a demon that accidentally used holy water instead of Visine, I’m remembering how I like seeing the sun in the evening. It’s nice to sit outside while Bean sprints in circles.

The other day I was standing in the backyard to supervise Bean’s sprints and noticed a really rotten odor. It smelled familiar but I couldn’t put my finger on it for a second. Then I placed it. Cat shit. Our asshole neighbor empties his cat litter pan up against the corner of our fence and the smell travels. Seriously, dude? It’s not enough that you tie your damned dog outside and if I want to open the house up I will hear him bark all. day. long. You’ve gotta use the back side of my fence as your cat’s latrine? For crying out loud.

I’m going to get a bag of lime to spread around back there. I’ll make sure that the asshole is home to see me do it and I’ll also give his poor dog a nice chew bone while I’m out there. It just occurred to me that he puts this shit like 15 feet away from the dog he ties up. What a dick. Ugh.

Oh! While I’m on the subject of the neighbors…

On November 10 (Bean’s birthday), Tiny Dog escaped. It’s a long story as to how it happened and I’ll just say that it didn’t happen on my watch. We realized that Tiny was gone and started scouring the neighborhood. Sweety saw asshole neighbor’s wife outside and asked her if she saw Tiny. Why yes, yes she did. Saw Tiny Dog laying in the sunshine for about 30 minutes while she was gardening and Tiny was still outside when she left for the grocery store.

Look. I know it’s my responsibility to keep up with my own pet. But really? Do you know how many times I’ve returned one of their damned cats or caught their dog off of the leash? Or how about that time I turned my house into a cat death ward and fought their fleas for 2 months afterwards? And she couldn’t be bothered fuckall to tap on the door to see if we knew Tiny was in the front yard untethered?

We looked all over for Tiny Dog, called animal control to see if she’d been picked up, called all of the shelters and vet offices to no avail. No word of her. In the middle of this, we had to have a birthday party for Bean. When she blew out her candles, she announced that she wished that Tiny Dog would come home soon. That night, Bean and I papered the neighborhood and main intersections with posters. I tried to make her as unappealing as possible in posters by making sure to mention her advanced age and telling a lie that she needed medication.

shit happens

The next morning, Bean and I went to the shelter to see if Tiny Dog had been brought in. Even though I’d been told no over the phone, I was advised to go check in person too. Sweety had been texting me the whole time with how upset he was that Tiny was gone. I was getting irritated because I was trying to not let myself get mad at him for losing my dog and his texts are bugging me. He sends a photo text that I receive as I’m filling out paperwork to go tour the new strays.
I look at this and get PISSED OFF. I’m thinking, “Okay, dude. I haven’t screamed at you yet for losing Tiny Dog on your watch and she’s MY dog but you wanna send me a photo of you and her in happier times? What the hell is wrong with you?” I continue filling out paperwork and it occurs to me that it would be really fucked up of Sweety to send me a photo of him with Tiny at a time like this and is he really that bad? Probably not. I look at the photo again and it occurs to me that it looks like it was just taken.

Tiny Dog is home! Huzzah! Turns out that the night before at about 5 p.m., Tiny Dog walked up to 3 little girls who live maybe a half mile away and wouldn’t stop following them. They called their Mom and told her that a strange dog was following them and she asked them if they were afraid of being attacked. LOLOLOLOL They kept her overnight and the next morning decided to see if they could find any posters saying she was missing. They saw all of my signs right away. I had a giant one taped to our mailbox that said, “Lost dog lives here”. They didn’t bring Tiny Dog to the door with them because they wanted the owner to describe the dog. When Sweety answered the door and they said they had a lost dog, he did this weird whistle that he does for Tiny and she started screaming in the back of their van and streaked up the yard to him.

To put it mildly, I was really happy that she was home. She is now the proud owner of a microchip and measures have been taken to ensure that another escape never happens.