Flaming pile of dog poo
We live in a really quiet piece of land in a small housing development where most of us keep to ourselves. We don’t do block parties, but we wave as we drive past and we respect each others’ property.
I live in a cul de sac which was a huge selling point when we purchased the place. Our next door neighbors are super nice and like I said, we keep to ourselves. Believe it or not, I’m a very private person when in my day to day. Sure, I’ll share stuff on here, but this is the land of the internet, people. I don’t know half of you.
When I first moved in, my one neighbor told me about the other neighbors, saying they’re nice, quiet, respectable. She did, however, mention that the person directly across the cul de sac from us was an interesting person, but chose to reserve judgement for when I met her.
I only had a few interactions with her, one of those times being when I was in the front yard painting our front door. She walked up to me – out of nowhere – and started talking my ear off, and then, mid sentence, walked off.
What she talked about, however, was very interesting. She was telling me that someone, on multiple occasions, would report her to the township for being a poor dog owner.
What she didn’t know, was that I was one of those people who reported her.
Well, let’s start at the beginning. She had two golden retrievers. Both were wild, rambunctious and just plain rotten. She had a chain link fence in the back and apparently the dogs had dug a hole and would escape from their yard daily.
Must have been a big hole. ‘Cause those were some big dogs.
While I totally understand a dog getting lose now and again, when it becomes a daily habit, one must wonder where the owner responsibility lies.
And just you try getting near them. They bark at you and run away. On multiple occasions, she’dsend the grandkid out to chase the dogs down.
She was 7.
Either way, enough was enough. When the dogs started chasing kids as they got off the school bus, I had had enough. Not to mention I had enough poop in my lawn to make it seem like I had five dogs. I mean, I know my own dog’s shit. That wasn’t hers.
Not to mention, I caught them in the act many of times.
So, yes. I called the police and dog catchers on her. When you start messing with kids, any kids, you mess with me, lady.
Finally, I had had enough. Carly was over at the house and I told her, “Look, it’s seriously bad. See?”
And as I said that, one of the dogs was squatting in my yard.
I was done. I took a garbage bag, scooped up the poo, tied the bag and walked barefoot across the street to their front door running on pure adrenaline. (Remember, I’m not very direct.) After ringing the doorbell, the owner opened the door and asked what the issue was. I handed her the bag of poo and said, “This belongs to you. I’m tired of your dogs pooping in my yard. Please be a better owner or you will be cited. Again.”
Then I walked back home.
She moved away a few months after and the new neighbors are petrified of dogs. So there’s that.