Skip to main content

Given the right circumstances, I might just drop kick an old woman.

I had just sat down in my comfy chair with a large bowl of steaming chili (those of you who know me know I like to have my food extra-piping hot, at scalding level) when I spied movement from outside the window.

Mary. The dog walker. Was back.

Risking the flesh on my thighs, I quickly tossed my bowl on the end table, leaped across the living room furniture and frantically grabbed my camera.

What is with this woman's fascination with our yard? I get that it's the least manicured lot on the block but our house hardly looks vacant. Plus, I've told her before to keep off our yard. To her face. So she knows we live there. Unless she suffers from memory loss.

I ran to the front of the house and down the front steps, ignoring the fact it was noon and I was still sporting my baby blue pajama pants that had glow-in-the-dark kittens printed on them.

I don't know if you can tell how into our yard she actually is. I should really take a photo from the side. In this photo I'm at the front corner of the house waiting. Watching. Wondering when she'll notice me.

But she changed things up on me by starting to walk back down towards the road. So, I called her name.

Hey, Mary, I quipped, perhaps a tad louder and snarkier than a normal greeting.

And she turned. And said hi back. As if we were friends. Look she thinks we're friends.

No, really. The woman who walks her stinky dog in my yard day after day after day even though I've asked her three thousand times to stop, thinks we are friends.

But we're not, Mary. We are not friends.

Hey, Mary. Um. Why are you walking your dog in my yard?

"I'll bring him to the street."

Great. But that doesn't answer my question. Why are you walking your dog in my yard?

"I said I'll bring him to the street."

Right. But you still keep walking your dog in my yard. And I've asked you not to. Many times. To me, that's very disrespectful of you and I would just like to know why you keep doing it.

And, as God is my witness, the woman looked at me, shrugged her shoulders and said, "I don't know; habit?"

I couldn't quite remember what the punishment was for drop-kicking an old woman and booting her rickety dog out of my yard but I was pretty sure the fines and lawyers fees would seriously deplete my Fiji Vacation Fund, so instead I said well you're just going to have to find another habit. I've talked to the police and if they find you in my yard again they're giving you a ticket for trespassing. That's why I'm taking pictures. For proof.

And then I took one more for good measure. Because I'm mature like that.

Something tells me Mary doesn't think we're friends anymore.


Tina, said…
I have yet to catch the non-scooping dog walker who walks their big dog on our street and leaves the large dog poo pile in the grass, directly where I step to get out of my car.
Becca said…
That is bizarre. I have a habit of releasing fire ants into my grass, howdoyoulikethat?
HeatherB said…
That is the most obese dog I have ever seen.

Look at you, being all confrontational!

What if she has been the one stealing your bird seed? Scooping it out and carrying it back to her house?

Johi said…
Good Lord, that woman is nervy! And someone report her to the Humane Society. She is killing her dog with too much food. Poor pooch. No wonder he has to shit so much...
Libby said…
did you get the drop kick idea from that article I posted?
"baby blue pajama pants that had glow-in-the-dark kittens"

I need those. Like, yesterday
Brenna said…
I need half the balls you have.
Ellen said…
Isn't it strange how some people just refuse to learn? Perhaps she is a bit "off" in the head. Still you are doing the right thing.

We have barking dogs that drive us nuts in the summer when we want to sit outside or have our windows open. Those two dogs barking nonstop. We have done all the right things and those stupid dog owners are playing us big time...long story that I will not burden you with.
cbeck said…
Spray her with a water hose while screaming "BAD DOG BAD DOG!"
There IS something about Mary. Aren't there sidewalks she could use?

Popular posts from this blog

The House that God Built

in·stan·ta·ne·ous /ˌinstənˈtānēəs/ adjective 1. occurring or done in an instant or instantly.
synonyms: immediate, instant, on-the-spot

The thing is, she died so sudden.
I didn't have the chance to plead with God, to make all the irrational promises. If he would just let her be okay.... I would start taking better care of my health. I would be nicer to the neighbor that drove me crazy. I would always let someone else go in front of me at Walmart no matter how long the line was. I wouldn't complain. Ever. I would volunteer at the Homeless Shelter. I would clean up after pigs. I would clip the toenails of the elderly. I would do anything and everything He would ask me to do....
There is a box on her death certificate that captures the amount of time between the initial injury and the time of death. It reads "seconds." I wish it read "instantaneous" because she deserves a clever word like that.
Fast forward five years.... definitely taking MUCH longer than "…

Seeing Avery All Grown Up

One day I'll tell you about the freezing cold we left and the heavy bags we lugged, full of supplies and medicines. I'll tell you about arriving in Port au Prince and walking across a cracked concrete parking lot to board an old school bus with a flat tire. How the heat was suffocating after months of below zero Wisconsin winter weather, how the people crowded and walked too close to moving traffic as we searched for a tire shop that was barely more than a couple men sitting on overturned 5-gallon buckets on the side of the road next to a pile of old tires, everything covered in dirt.

I'll tell you about waiting on the bus while they removed the tire and I'll recall the loud explosion that rocked the bus and scared the life out of me and how I was relieved to learn it was just the tire blowing after being filled too far. (They didn't have any gauges.) And then I'll tell you about the fear I felt when I realized we didn't have a tire and we were stuck on th…

When Your Imagined Life is Nothing Like This One

There were so many ways I imagined my adult life would be....THIS is not one of them.
I posted that on my Facebook wall last night. It might have been seen as funny except my choice of hashtags gave me away:
treading water getting nowhere piles of disappointment not many successes worn out and exhausted out of options

I always imagined my life would be thrilling. Full of exciting adventures and people from all over the world. I would dine at Ethiopian, Thai, and Indian restaurants. I would write books, teach English, coach forensics and direct the play. My husband would be charming and funny and not care about gender roles when it came to household chores. He would beg for at least six kids and I would fall in love with him all over again each time I caught him giving good life advice.
I would take photographs and travel the world documenting the people I came across. I would adopt a sibling group of three or maybe four and work on foster care policies because the ones we have aren't work…