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In Which I Am A Good Neighbor

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You need to know two things:

First, one of my neighbors has a revolving cast of dogs that live in her house. At one point, she had something like 5 dogs—until the city informed her she was breaking the law and made her get rid of some of them. For while, it seemed like she had gone down to just one dog, a white boxer mix named Elvis (she had a black lab mix named Presley, but I don’t think she has him anymore).

Second, she’s pretty cavalier about keeping her dogs off-leash. She runs with them off-leash. She brazenly exercises them in the park near our neighborhood off-leash (the same park where I got a $150 ticket for having Molly off-leash). She runs from the dog catcher and cusses at him. She gives him false names and addresses. She’s a scofflaw. She’s also perfectly fine with just opening her door a little and letting the dogs roam around in her small yard whenever they need to, and even though her house is on the corner of two pretty busy streets, her dogs are well-behaved and street-smart, so it’s never been a problem.

Tuesday, while walking in front of her house on the way to where I start my 5K runs, I saw a maybe 6 month-old border collie puppy in her yard. When the puppy saw Molly, it completely went bonkers with excitement. It started trying to get Molly to play with it, making these big circles around the yard and, more importantly, out into the street. Which, as it was just before 8:00, was very busy with people driving to work.

I looked up and noticed that the sliding door to her garage/salon was open about a dog’s width, so I thought I’d put the dog back in the house. I took a couple of steps toward the garage and the dog ran the remaining distance and went right through the open door. Easy.

I went on my run, promising that I’d apologize to my neighbor the next time I saw her. Which was today.

I was running down the long street between our houses and saw her coming up on the other side of the road. I slowed down and crossed over.

“Hey,” I said, breathing heavily. “I hope it was OK, but Tuesday, your puppy was freaking out over Molly and was running in the street and there were a lot of cars and I was worried he would get hit so I shut him up in your salon.”

This was her response:

“So that’s how he got there! Yeah. That’s not my dog.”



Written by srogers

September 28, 2012 at 5:42 pm

Posted in Around Here

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