I know, my last few posts haven’t had anything to do with being a domestic goddess, and I promise they are coming, but I just had to tell you all about something that happened over the winter.
It was cold outside, I mean really seriously, bone-chilling-wind-piercing-every-layer-you’re-wearing cold. We were all at home, I think it may have been a Sunday afternoon. It was sunny, but flat out frigid.
My son suddenly yells out, ‘Mom! A lady’s dog is pooping in our yard and she’s walking away!’
In our neighborhood, in our covenants (and maybe even the city as well) you’re supposed to clean up after your mutt uses someone else’s yard for a toilet. Well, that and it’s just common courtesy. I mean honestly, if my child made a mess at someone else’s house, at the very least, my kid would have to clean it up and if the mess was toxic spill level, I’d have to pay to have the carpets cleaned/sheet rock repaired/walls repainted, whatever, right?
So, me being the shy wallflower that I am, I went out there and looked to see if what my son said was true. Yup. There in my dead, dormant, yellow grass was a steaming pile of poop. blech. Well, isn’t that charming. By the time I’d assessed the situation, she was already two houses past us.
I called out, ‘EXCUSE ME!’ and of course she didn’t hear me the first time, so I said it again, ‘EXCUSE ME!’
She reluctantly turned and gave me that deer in the head lights, ‘you talking to me?’ look.
“YOUR DOG LEFT A MESS IN MY YARD.’
she starts walking toward me, and says, ‘What?’ as if she hadn’t heard what I said. She knew full well what I was talking about.
‘YOUR DOG LEFT A MESS IN MY YARD!’ as I’m pointing to the offending mass.
once again with the ‘hearing problem’. “What?’ she’s continuing to walk toward me, I think she’s thinking she’s gonna have to own up to this one. It’s hard to pretend it wasn’t your dog when you’re the only nutcase out walking your mutt at 15F and it’s fresh and steaming.
She’s close enough this time I don’t have to shout. ‘Your dog left a mess in my yard.’
Now the lamest excuse EVER. ‘Oh. I”m so sorry. I was going to come back and clean it up. It always happens when I don’t have a bag with me.’
Right. Now, if you think I”m buying that one, I’ve got a piece of property to sell you! As if. She didn’t give a damn where her dog pooped and you’ll never be able to convince me she did. As if she ever carries bags!
‘I’ll be happy to get you a bag.’ I said as nicely as I could, all the while thinking I’d rather pick it up and chunk it at her. How great would that be? she’s walking away thinking she’s gotten away with it again, and suddenly, thump. she feels something hit the back of her head and turns to see me smiling with a piece of poop in my hand aiming for her again!
‘Oh, that would be nice, thank you.’ she’s secretly thinking, ‘yeah, I may clean it up now, but you’re marked you pain in the ass, we’ll be back and I’ll make sure poochie here eats an entire can of pumpkin before we come by here again so he can leave you a nice big pile!’
My son grabs a bag and brings it outside, while we all watched from the warmth of our house to make sure she picked it up.
My husband was laughing at me. Well, seriously, it’s just plain rude. This woman is one of my neighbors and she was going to do that to me? I don’t think so.
His comment on his Facebook page the next day, ‘My wife doesn’t take shit from anybody!’