Every neighborhood has at least one. And for whatever reason, they always wind up sharing property lines with me.
Hubby assures me it’s not the powers that be having fun at my expense, it’s just that there are so many lunatics, everywhere.
My regular readers will recall the incident with my rear neighbor (subsequently nicknamed “Loony Tunes”) at 6:30 am on Easter morning in 2018. If not, read it here. After that incident, said neighbor’s teenagers were observed having a picnic on the rear portion of my yard over Memorial Day weekend. Hubby and I chose to ignore the behavior at the time because we knew our new fence was being erected the following week, and that the fence along the rear line was going to be 6 feet tall instead of 4 feet like the side fences (hey, we don’t have issues with either of the side neighbors). Surely, a 6 foot tall fence would solve the property line dispute.
One can only hope, right?
Things were fairly quiet over the following year. Sure, the dogs would occasionally see each other through the fence, but her dog wasn’t allowed in her precious flower garden, and my Puppy Cody seemed to understand that there would be no doggie playtime. Our huge yard has plenty of bunnies and squirrels to chase instead.
The neighbor tended to her flowers on her side of the fence, and we ignored her. Whenever I noticed vines from her flowers climbing up my fence, I pulled them off from my side. It’s my fence and I find the vines unsightly, and some vines have leaves or flowers that are poisonous to dogs.
All seemed to be well. Until …
It had already been a week from hell. I had been rear-ended at a stoplight on Friday and was still hurting on the following Thursday. Hubby had an appointment at 6 pm, which meant it was my turn to take care of Puppy Cody when I got home from work. Apparently, the neighbor has noticed that we usually take the dog out between 5:30-6:00 pm; her teenage son was out there waiting.
Certainly, I should have noticed that her dog was suddenly allowed to cross the flower bed so that Cody could get nose-to-nose at the fence. Many times, I had heard the neighbor screaming at her son, and the dog, to stay away from the flowers, but this night they were both in the flowers and up against the fence.
As I approached the fence to shoo Cody away, the kid started:
Excuse me. The next time you want to pull the vines …
No way am I having a property line dispute with a teenager. I could hear the neighbor screaming her head off either from the garage or the side of her house.
I immediately turned on my heel and began walking back to the house. I was extremely proud that Cody obeyed my “Come, Cody” and trotted along as if I had paid mucho bucks for training lessons. (Of course, I had also said the word “dinner” – that may have had something to do with it.)
Now the kid had been dissed by a short fat old white woman. He continued to rave, but I simply wasn’t listening any more so I have no idea what he said, until …
As I got more than halfway back to the house, I heard:
And the next time it will be worse!
Wait! Was I just threatened? Over flowers? WTF?!
Houston, I believe we have a problem. Best not to engage.
Without pause, I continued into the house with Cody, and attempted to forget the whole ugly scene. I did not mention it to hubby, because I knew he’d already be stressed after his appointment.
The next morning, I looked out the back window at 6:00 am prior to taking Cody for her morning business, and there, hanging on my side of my rear fence, was a bright red lunch bag with papers sticking out! Say what? Obviously, there’s only one family that could have left that token of their appreciation. Anything hanging on my fence by someone other than me or my family will be removed immediately. Before removing it, I took the photo at the head of this post. I guess the neighbor must have heard me use her nickname on occasion, although I’m sure I never said it to her face and never when I knew she was within earshot. Maybe she has my house bugged? (Or maybe she’s one of my readers, in which case I invite her to come forward so we can “chat.”)
The bag had something fairly heavy in it. I don’t know what, and I had no interest in finding out. For all I know it may have contained poisoned dog biscuits, or maybe arsenic laced brownies. Perhaps the body of some poor bunny who made the unfortunate judgment error of nibbling on those flowers. Or maybe the severed head of one of the other neighbors. (For sure, the family to the south of Loony Tunes has been suspiciously quiet lately.)
I reached up (bear in mind, it wasn’t easy because, hey, 6 foot fence and 5’2″ woman with seatbelt injuries), hit the bag from the bottom and boosted it up and over to her side. Unfortunately, it didn’t go straight up, it went slightly to the right – and landed with a plop, right in the middle of her Black-Eyed Susans. Oh well.
Hopefully, the point has gotten across that we want absolutely nothing to do with the neighbors and that we intend to maintain our fence as we see fit. Hubby has been made aware that there may be an ongoing issue, and we’re discussing ways to resolve the problem without resorting to aggression or violence, and without having to take out a second mortgage.
With a little luck, the lady’s kid will get tired of being berated in public and will take care of the problem for us.
In any event, colder weather will be arriving soon and the flowers will all die off until next year. Plenty of time to work on solutions.
Happy Weekend, Folks. If you can’t join ’em, beat ’em.
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Images by Cordelia’s Mom/TeddyRosalie Studio