Doggie Bag

My parents have an a-hole neighbor that lives across the street. In the past, she’s held rowdy parties which have left the lot across from her house (my parents’ property) littered with beer cans and trash.

Today, I was visiting mom, and our dogs started barking. I looked out the window to see our neighbor’s mangy dog pooping on mom and dad’s lawn. Now I’m a good neighbor, so naturally I bagged the specimen and walked on over for a cordial chat.

When I rang the doorbell, the dog started barking, and the young woman who lives in the house yelled at it to “shut up!”. She opened the door, holding a phone to her ear.

“Hi!” I said cheerfully.

“I was visiting my mom when our dogs started barking at something out the window, and when I went to look I got to see your dog pooping on our lawn.”

At that point, I raised the bag towards her with a smile on my face, and said with all the sunshine one could possibly muster, “I thought I’d return your property to you!”

“Okay,” she said as she shut the door.

I left it on her porch. I’m going to start attaching post-its with little hearts and smiley faces if it continues, though I might just feed her pooch some laxative-laced treats the next time he saunters on over. Then again, life’s got to be hard enough as it is with that type of master, so I’ll probably leave the poor dog alone.

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