Since the loud and obnoxious antics of the beginning of the year, we have settled into a more subtle kind of cold war with the neighbors. We did receive feedback from the mythical HOA — they consider it a serious situation and they are watching it closely — and there have been no more parties. No more loud ones, at least. Straw was laid over the tracks dug into the neighbor’s yard. If we see each other while we’re outside, they wave casually, and we wave back. Smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave.
About a month ago they completed their little redneck family with the addition of a hyper black Labrador Retriever. I’m not sure what his name is, but they should call him Sir Shits-A-Lot, ’cause he does. In our lawn. We found this out with our feet first, but we’ve learned to venture into the backyard with shovels.
At first, Steven was nice. “Hey man, I think your dog’s been pooping in our yard.” Fuzzy Redneck assures us they keep a watch on the dog and they don’t let him go in the other yards, but they’d make sure.
*Squish!* But still there was poop.
My theory is they let the dog out in the middle of the night when they’re hungover or dead tired and off the dog goes tromping, and boy does he love our yard. Once I came outside to see Fuzzy Redneck walking out of our yard with a shovel, cleaning up after the dog.
*Squish!* Still more poop.
Last weekend Steven scalped down the yard in preparation for spring. I hoped the shorter grass would keep Poopy Puppy away; perhaps the shaggy winter overcoat of dead grass doubled as a great bootie wipe.
*Squish!* Alas, tons of more poop this weekend. I deal with enough poop from the kids and the cats (especially the cats); I don’t want to be dealing with this!
So I shoveled up all the poop, then FWUMPPP! down into a pile at the bottom of their deck steps.
Now it’s their turn to squish.