The Crazy Neighbors?
A friend of mine posted something on facebook this week about her crazy neighbor. I bet you're thinking, "Wait, did I post something about . . .?" because we all have crazy neighbors. Her post started me thinking about my other friends and their crazy neighbors and then I thought about my neighborhood and realized . . . I might be the crazy neighbor.
You would assume our crazy neighbor would be the dude who has shot at students doing burn outs in front of our house (they were excited that they figured out where we lived, and being stupid- as teenagers can be) and our dogs when I accidentally left the backyard gate open and they went for a romp around the neighborhood. One might think it would be the dude who wears green, plaid, flannel pajama pants . . . all the time. Or maybe it was the lady down the street who kept goats- in the city limits (I am pretty sure even Monroe doesn't allow farm animals within the city. I could be wrong.)
But I just might be the crazy lady.
It all started about 3 months after we moved in. Doug decided to cut a tree down in the backyard. In order to "top it off" (or cut out the top part of the tree, so that the tree would not fall across the backyard onto the fence and into the neighbors yard) he used his tree stand from back in the days when he hunted and "shimmied" up the dead tree. I was standing out in the yard, screaming curse words at him because the tree was swaying wildly. Doug was at the top of a dead tree that was swaying. I was screaming bad words. Words that started with the letter "f." Things like, "I hadn't gotten the life insurance policy finalized." Doug obviously made it down from the tree without injury. I am pretty sure that was the moment that I became The Crazy Neighbor.
About 3 years ago, we began having trouble with a neighbor's dogs somehow getting into our backyard. It was a complete mystery because: my dogs weren't getting out, so how were they getting in? We not only kept the gates securely shut, but we also had put cinder blocks in front of the gates so my big 100 pound dogs couldn't push the gates open. All we could figure is that these little chiuaua's were slipping through the pickets. Oh, it was frustrating. We'd come home and find feces on the deck that were definitely NOT from my dogs (believe me, 100 pound dogs poop is different than 7 pound dogs. Trust me). Andrew was scared to death of the little yappers and if they came into the yard, he'd freak. He got trapped in the car one time, since the chiuaua's rudely greeted us as we arrived home one afternoon. After that incident, I stomped over to the owner's yard and told him to get his dogs. I wasn't rude, but I wasn't overly friendly either.
The chiuaua's would bust into our yard and attack my dogs. Poor Samson. He may have been 100 pounds, but he was such a scaredy cat. Those little dogs freaked him out. He'd scamper around trying to get away from them, looking all wild eyed.
After bringing those stupid dogs back to their house more than once, I began to get perhaps a bit irrationally angry. I mean, honestly: those little dogs are coming into MY yard and harrassing MY dogs! Then I thought, how if my dogs get out one time- the neighbors flips out just because they're big, they must be mean, but I am expected to just let these little 7 pound dogs harrass me in my yard because they're little?! And then I got worried, what if my dogs actually defended themselves and one of those dogs got hurt, would we be responsible? What if the owner came into the yard to get his dogs, when we weren't home and my dogs attacked him, would we be responsible?
So I called Animal Control. I wanted clarrification- to make sure we would not be liable. I began to keep documentation on when the dogs got into the yard, who I talked to at Animal Control, the date I spoke with them. I was going to cover myself as best I could.
And then . . . the chiuaua's got into my yard in the morning. In case you didn't know- I am really not a morning person. (I taught with a lady once who thought I didn't like her, until I taught with her in the afternoon and later she told me I was much nicer in the afternoons. I had no idea I was so awful in the mornings! I mean- yeah Doug's told me, but clearly he was lying.) I stomped into the bedroom, where Doug was still getting ready, and said, "The chiuaua's are in the yard!!!!!" He said he'd deal with it. And I said, "NO! It's the morning, and I am in a crappy mood! I'll take care of this!!!" I think Doug rolled his eyes and braced himself. I slammed out of the house, stomped over to the neighbors, and in my psychotic rage, fell in a ditch. That did nothing to chill me out, I kept right on stomping- waist high in a pile of leaves. Then I walked right up to the neighbor's door and bammed on it. Then when he came to the door, I said, "You need to come get your dogs, they're in my yard again!!!!!" On the way over to my house, I told him, "I've contacted Animal Control and just so you know, we will not be liable for anything that happens to you or your dogs while they're in our yard! I am sick and tired of this. If my dogs get out, everyone gets in an uproar, because your dogs are small I am expected to not mind!" Then I said other things that I do not remember. Apparently my temper tantrum worked, his dogs haven't shown up in my yard ever again.
I've yelled at a little girl. I was out for an evening run. I was running on the edge of the left side of the road. She was on the right side of the road, walking her dog with one of those retractable leashes. Instead of reigning the dog in, when I went past, she let it out so the dog started jumping on me and tripping me up. I said very unkindly, that she needed to get her dog pulled back and away from me! Oddly, she nor her mother are very friendly to me. I can't imagine why. But honestly, keep your dog pulled in!
Then of course, we have Alexa who is prone to random bouts of screaming, so she's certainly not helping my case as not being The Crazy Neighbor. Many of you have knicknames for your crazy neighbor, I wonder what mine is. I hope it's something creative.
You would assume our crazy neighbor would be the dude who has shot at students doing burn outs in front of our house (they were excited that they figured out where we lived, and being stupid- as teenagers can be) and our dogs when I accidentally left the backyard gate open and they went for a romp around the neighborhood. One might think it would be the dude who wears green, plaid, flannel pajama pants . . . all the time. Or maybe it was the lady down the street who kept goats- in the city limits (I am pretty sure even Monroe doesn't allow farm animals within the city. I could be wrong.)
But I just might be the crazy lady.
It all started about 3 months after we moved in. Doug decided to cut a tree down in the backyard. In order to "top it off" (or cut out the top part of the tree, so that the tree would not fall across the backyard onto the fence and into the neighbors yard) he used his tree stand from back in the days when he hunted and "shimmied" up the dead tree. I was standing out in the yard, screaming curse words at him because the tree was swaying wildly. Doug was at the top of a dead tree that was swaying. I was screaming bad words. Words that started with the letter "f." Things like, "I hadn't gotten the life insurance policy finalized." Doug obviously made it down from the tree without injury. I am pretty sure that was the moment that I became The Crazy Neighbor.
About 3 years ago, we began having trouble with a neighbor's dogs somehow getting into our backyard. It was a complete mystery because: my dogs weren't getting out, so how were they getting in? We not only kept the gates securely shut, but we also had put cinder blocks in front of the gates so my big 100 pound dogs couldn't push the gates open. All we could figure is that these little chiuaua's were slipping through the pickets. Oh, it was frustrating. We'd come home and find feces on the deck that were definitely NOT from my dogs (believe me, 100 pound dogs poop is different than 7 pound dogs. Trust me). Andrew was scared to death of the little yappers and if they came into the yard, he'd freak. He got trapped in the car one time, since the chiuaua's rudely greeted us as we arrived home one afternoon. After that incident, I stomped over to the owner's yard and told him to get his dogs. I wasn't rude, but I wasn't overly friendly either.
The chiuaua's would bust into our yard and attack my dogs. Poor Samson. He may have been 100 pounds, but he was such a scaredy cat. Those little dogs freaked him out. He'd scamper around trying to get away from them, looking all wild eyed.
After bringing those stupid dogs back to their house more than once, I began to get perhaps a bit irrationally angry. I mean, honestly: those little dogs are coming into MY yard and harrassing MY dogs! Then I thought, how if my dogs get out one time- the neighbors flips out just because they're big, they must be mean, but I am expected to just let these little 7 pound dogs harrass me in my yard because they're little?! And then I got worried, what if my dogs actually defended themselves and one of those dogs got hurt, would we be responsible? What if the owner came into the yard to get his dogs, when we weren't home and my dogs attacked him, would we be responsible?
So I called Animal Control. I wanted clarrification- to make sure we would not be liable. I began to keep documentation on when the dogs got into the yard, who I talked to at Animal Control, the date I spoke with them. I was going to cover myself as best I could.
And then . . . the chiuaua's got into my yard in the morning. In case you didn't know- I am really not a morning person. (I taught with a lady once who thought I didn't like her, until I taught with her in the afternoon and later she told me I was much nicer in the afternoons. I had no idea I was so awful in the mornings! I mean- yeah Doug's told me, but clearly he was lying.) I stomped into the bedroom, where Doug was still getting ready, and said, "The chiuaua's are in the yard!!!!!" He said he'd deal with it. And I said, "NO! It's the morning, and I am in a crappy mood! I'll take care of this!!!" I think Doug rolled his eyes and braced himself. I slammed out of the house, stomped over to the neighbors, and in my psychotic rage, fell in a ditch. That did nothing to chill me out, I kept right on stomping- waist high in a pile of leaves. Then I walked right up to the neighbor's door and bammed on it. Then when he came to the door, I said, "You need to come get your dogs, they're in my yard again!!!!!" On the way over to my house, I told him, "I've contacted Animal Control and just so you know, we will not be liable for anything that happens to you or your dogs while they're in our yard! I am sick and tired of this. If my dogs get out, everyone gets in an uproar, because your dogs are small I am expected to not mind!" Then I said other things that I do not remember. Apparently my temper tantrum worked, his dogs haven't shown up in my yard ever again.
I've yelled at a little girl. I was out for an evening run. I was running on the edge of the left side of the road. She was on the right side of the road, walking her dog with one of those retractable leashes. Instead of reigning the dog in, when I went past, she let it out so the dog started jumping on me and tripping me up. I said very unkindly, that she needed to get her dog pulled back and away from me! Oddly, she nor her mother are very friendly to me. I can't imagine why. But honestly, keep your dog pulled in!
Then of course, we have Alexa who is prone to random bouts of screaming, so she's certainly not helping my case as not being The Crazy Neighbor. Many of you have knicknames for your crazy neighbor, I wonder what mine is. I hope it's something creative.
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