Friday, January 15, 2010

Mary, Mary, Where you going to?

There's a lady that lives on the opposite end of the block from us. I'll call her "Mary" because her name just happens to be Mary. So Mary has this dog. A little, yipping-mutt type. It's an old dog, more wide than it is long, and it doesn't walk very well. Mary drags her little dog down her driveway, into the street, and walks up the block to our driveway. She continues dragging the dog up our drive like she's going to come to the door and ring the doorbell except she hangs a sharp left at the siding, drags the mutt a few feet into our front yard and hovers outside our dining room window until the mutt makes his deposit. Mary does not pick the deposit up. Ever.

This irritates me. And I've asked Mary not to use our yard. Mary explained she has to because the dog is blind. I expressed to Mary that perhaps instead of dragging the blind dog into our yard she could pick someone else's yard to drag the blind dog into because this really isn't working for us.

Now it's a fun game to bust Mary. Sometimes she thinks we're not home because the garage door is closed hiding our cars. So right when she relaxes into hover mode under the window I snap open the blinds, tap on the glass, smile real big and wave excitedly like she's my bestest friend ever and I am so glad she stopped by to say hi. She never waves back, but she does practically sprint back to the road, dragging the dog behind her.

And in case you think I'm making this up.... meet Mary:

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