Thursday, May 6, 2010

Mayhem in the Projects

Dear Stupid Neighbor Three Streets Down (not you, Missy),


The dog you hit with a baton this morning is named Max. He lives two doors down and across the street from you. No wonder he wouldn't come to me or anyone else after you took in a few good licks. I'm sure his owners, the Masons, didn't appreciate your calling the cops on him. Why you decided to yell, "I CALLED 911!" at me when Dante and I came upon you and your two large dogs (both on leads - I'm sure we appreciate your so stringently following the rules), I still don't know. When I asked you why you had called 911, you yelled some inanity about how dogs are not allowed to "run around loose!"

Take a minute to think, Stupid Neighbor. Max is a good dog. He was smiling at you. Though I had never met him, he obeyed me when I told him to stop barking. He didn't bother Dante, though Dante was not on a leash either, and Max could have eaten him for breakfast. Max was obviously well loved, well fed, thoroughly brushed, and had a collar on. It appeared that he was out for a joy ride and relishing life out of his fence for a little while. His large stature and dark coloring could be interpreted as imposing, but he is somebody's loved pet, and he was bothering nobody.

Furthermore, once you had retreated back to your house, Officer Braden drove up. He and his precinct didn't appreciate your calling either. You called not once but twice, and you refused to leave your name. You told the Clinton Police to "just handle it," and that it was "not your problem." Officer Braden told me that he had done the only thing in his power: he put in a call to the dog catcher, who would be here in 45 minutes and, upon catching Max, would euthanize him.

Unable to stand that idea, I took Dante home, kissed Mike hello as he came in from the night shift, grabbed some leftover steak, and took the pickup truck back to the scene of the crime.

Mike doesn't appreciate you keeping me from fixing his supper.

Try as I might, Max would not come to me, but he did slip back into a backyard. I followed him, noted the "Beware of Dog" sign, realized there were no other dogs in that yard, and realized from Max's demeanor and the footprints in the dirt that this was his turf. I tried to close the gate, but it was broken and looked like it had been kicked in. So I went around to the front door, where I found a key in the lock and the door open and ajar.

The police dispatcher didn't appreciate a THIRD phone call from your street, only because YOU had called wolf twice.

Officer Braden came back, and with Glock pulled, slowly walked through the house, calling out for someone who was fallen, injured, dead, or worse. I followed tentatively, keeping my back toward the wall. I found a note on the kitchen counter that read "R - please feed Max. Love, Mom" dated today. No cars were in the garage, nobody was home, and we deduced that instead of a potential break-in and homicide, this was a case of a forgetful teenager.

Stupid Neighbor, you are retired. You are a male. All of these events occurred on your street. Pull your head out of your ass and make the effort to take care of your surroundings, including the people around you. You will make no friends behaving in the manner you did this morning.

I don't appreciate your careless actions.

Sincerely,
Big Bossy Redhead

Dear Irritating Neighbor:
Your dog has eaten three earplugs and part of a phone cord. I know because he left them on our front lawn.

2 comments:

Jess said...

This story makes me so sad! I hope Max is ok!

Fran said...

Max is great now - all the officials in Clinton know that the real menace is Stupid Neighbor.

 

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