I’m in a bad mood today. I know, right?
We live in a townhouse. This means that there are many people smooshed into many connected homes on a small plot of land. We’re all just one big happy family.
We’re in a middle unit of a row of six so we have neighbors on both sides. Lucky us. This could have been a disaster. Fortunately, and not due to any due diligence on our part in discovering this before we moved in, the town homes were very well built. There are thick firewalls between units. This is not only good if there is a fire, but it also provides some pretty amazing soundproofing.
Our neighbors on one side have two little kids and a big dog. “Oh crap!” I thought to myself when we first met them. But we never hear them. Ever.
We’ve only seen our neighbor on the other side once in the nearly three years we’ve lived there. He obviously likes to keep a low profile. And we never hear him either. But that’s what I would expect from a man whose weekly trash consists of a little grocery store plastic bag tied at the top. I’m ashamed every week when I wheel out our overflowing trash can.
But despite the amazing soundproofing, there are still challenges to living in a group situation in our modern “I want what I want when I want it” culture. People who don’t notice that their roof gutter is now resting on their garage. People who park in a guest spot (a paltry 2 per 6 homes) because they use their garage for storage. Finding a drunk neighbor passed out in your driveway. Yeah – okay – I guess that could happen anywhere…
The worst is the pets. Dogs specifically.
Don’t get me wrong – I love dogs. I had a sweet little pup growing up. And we had a totally wonderful Corgi when our kids were growing up. The Queen and I still miss him.
Honestly, I’ve never lived in a neighborhood with so many dogs. So many. And not just little dogs but big dogs as well. Dogs galore. I feel like I’m in the middle of a Disney movie and they’re all going to eat spaghetti together soon.
We’re actually the odd ones because we don’t have a dog. We own cats. But that’s another post…
Our covenants say that, when you take your dog out, it should be on a leash. And you should pick up after it/them. Yeah sure.
The renters in the end unit let their big dogs out to run free and leave little bundles of sweet smelling delight all over the grass at the end of the street. Other dog owners won’t walk their dogs down there because of the dog poop . Kind of funny in a twisted, ironic way way.
I think the HOA has given up trying to get the owner to get his renters to pick-up the poop. He just gets charged for annual sod replacement.
But the bane of my existence are three little yippy dogs two units down in the other end unit. The dogs didn’t get yippy until they added the third one last year. The doggy James Dean. Seriously bad influence on the other two.
When the weather is nice, the owners put the dogs out on their deck. And that’s when it starts. Not constant yipping, but explosive, intermittent yipping like machine gun fire. At all hours of the day and night. Like last night.
They started about 3:30 AM and it just kept up in spurts all morning. I’m on a diet. I’m recovering from a running injury. I’ve had several bad hair days in a row. And I missed Dancing with the Stars last night
For the love of all that’s holy, I need my sleep!
‘Round about 5:30 AM, I was starting to have some pretty disturbing thoughts about those three little dogs. I know there are no bad dogs, just bad owners, but try telling that to a sleep deprived, cranky AGMA.
The Bad Owners will try to walk the triumvirate of yippy dogs without leashes. The dogs go ballistic. Out of control; running everywhere. Like Andy Dufresne after he busts out of Shawshank Prison. They like to run into people’s garages. And jump on other dogs that are on leashes. And run after cars, and dart in and out of the wheels. One of them started nipping at my heels when I was finishing up a run. The owner tries to call them back, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen them look over their haunches, smile, and give her the finger. Or the paw. And sniff their butts.
After last night, I’m toying with the idea of not watching as closely or driving so slowly down the street when they are doing their Born Free routine. I know that’s awful. I feel awful just having these thoughts. And writing them down. And planning what I’ll say to the Bad Owners afterwards. Really, I feel bad when I kill a bug in my house – I try to capture it and put it outside. Except ants. They have no business in my house.
But a girl’s gotta sleep.
So Bad Owners…please put your yipsters in tonight. I’m sure they’d rather be snuggling at your feet than out on the deck where there’s a bunch of creepy, weird sounds.
And I hear there are coyotes in the neighborhood. I hear they can climb on decks for their appetizers. Yip, yip….(silence)