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The Reason There’s No Dog Poo On My Walkway

Let me tell you a story. It’s not a story for the faint of heart. Right after we moved into our house I became friends with a neighbor, Chelley. She’s fun in a less psychotic way than Jenna. Having Chelley as a neighbor turned out to be the very best thing that could have happened on our street. She sees the humor in situations the same way I do. Of course I do see her shake her head, give herself the sign of the cross and mutter in tongues occasionally but that’s to be expected around our house. She’s positively unflappable, a great character trait to possess when dealing with our family. Lesser people would have been driven insane by now, Chelley just takes it all in stride. Which is good thing, considering how my morning started out one particular day.

I should start by telling you that I have a long standing feud with the jerks who live down the street. We live in a nice neighborhood, gated and fairly affluent. The kind of neighborhood where it is not acceptable to allow your mangy little mutt to take a dump on your neighbor’s walkway every freakin’ morning. This had been going on for over a year before the fateful day. I had written nice notes, I had called the city, I had begged the homeowner’s association….that little mutt still took a dump on my walkway every single morning. This particular morning however, was the last straw. I was running late for a hair appointment and rushing out the door. I was busy trying to dial my phone and wasn’t watching where I was going. One second I was walking, the next second I was flat on my butt on the front walkway.

I sat there for a moment, shell shocked and confused. Then the smell hit me. Dog Crap. I looked around but didn’t see anything. Of course I didn’t- cause I was sitting on it. Apparently I made the grand mistake of actually setting foot onto my own front walkway without scanning for piles of dog crap first. My high heel hit the shit and then the shit hit the fan. After gingerly moving my extremities to make sure nothing was broken, I levitated levered myself off the ground in a full rage. Chelley, who was drinking coffee on her front porch, looked horrified and was crossing herself so fast that her right arm was a blur. Quivering with rage, I surveyed the damage. My fabulous new shoes- the left one was covered in dog crap and the right one was all scuffed up from the fall. My purse had splatters of dog crap all over the front and my skirt was coated in a layer of crap. I just bought this skirt. I paid way too much for it because I fell in love with the way the skirt made my backside look great and the top that matched conceals the floatation devices on my chest. Now it was covered in dog poo. I could actually feel the smoke coming out of my ears, I thought that was just a myth- it’s not. I stared down at the smeared dog poo on my front walkway for a moment before taking off across the lawn towards the neighbor’s house. Of course, by the time I arrived on their front stoop my poo covered shoes were decorated with bits of wet grass because I neglected to take into account that wet grass sticks to dog poo. Lovely.

I bypassed the doorbell, opting to beat on the front door with my shit covered shoes fists instead. I waited, tapping my crap covered shoe on the stoop. A few minutes later the door was thrown open by the man of the house, and I use the term man VERY loosely here people. Girlyman Greg is about 5 foot 6, weighs slightly more than his poodle and uses terms like “dah-ling”. His wife-Lumberjack Laura- is around 6 foot 3, weighs slightly less than a killer whale and has more facial hair than a Sasquatch. A match made in heaven.
Anyhoo, Girlyman Greg answered the door holding the poodle, who I could have sworn was smiling at me. I find it slightly obscene that this poodle has a better wardrobe than I do. On that particular day she was wearing a hot pink leopard print dress complete with taffeta ruffles and a rhinestone studded collar. What the hell?! They do know this a DOG, don’t they? If I was this animal, I would so totally throw myself under the wheels of a large SUV just to escape the indignity of wearing a hot pink taffeta ruffled dress. Seriously folks, what is the world coming to here? I digress…

Girlyman Greg: Can I help you with something?

Me: Your freakin dog left crap on my door step this morning. How many times do we have to have this discussion?

Girlyman Greg: Dah-ling, I think Lola just loves your yard. She’s makes a beeline for it every morning. I just can’t run fast enough to catch up to her.

Me: Perhaps you should consider wearing something other than spandex bicycle shorts, they are obviously restricting blood flow to your legs and slowing you down. I swear, if you don’t keep that fluff, taffeta wearing rat off my property I’m going to be forced to take desperate measures.

Girlyman Greg: Are you threatening Lola?

Me: Nope. I’m threatening YOU. Keep that damn dog off my property.

I turned around to march back to my house and the heel broke off my shoe. Fantastic. So instead of the dignified exit that I had planned, I limped back to my house with my head held high. I was late to my hair appointment, had to reschedule and pay a $35 cancellation fee.  My hairstylist refused to accept my dog crap on my front stoop story and took no pity on me. I spent the rest of the day plotting the demise of my neighbor.

When I arrived home I had finally calmed down to almost see the humor in what had happened that morning. I stepped out of the car and as I walked up to my door I saw it. A huge, fresh pile of steaming dog crap. Right in front of my front door. You have to be kidding me!! That was the last last straw. The war had begun. I let loose with a stream of curse words that had Chelley, who was again drinking on her front porch, crossing herself and muttering in tongues. She knew that hell hath no fury like a woman with dog crap covered shoes. As she left for the grocery store, she slipped me a 50 dollar bill with the instructions to put it towards my bail. I love that woman.

I had a plan. A good plan. A plan that required the help of friends who are just as unbalanced as myself. I called Jenna and Kari for back up. I really wish Matt had taken a picture of the 3 of us that night, but he refused to get involved- plausible deniability or some such shit like that. Anyhoo, we waited until after dark. Dressed all in black, carrying a small brown paper bag, we crept over to the neighbor’s house. Not exactly stealth-like considering Jenna fell over a bush and Kari twisted her ankle in a hole. Sigh…we waited in the bushes until we were sure that all was quiet on the block. Then, heart pounding and palms sweating, I crab walked up to the front door. Incidentally, nobody ever told me how hard it is to crab walk up the sidewalk. My thighs were burning by the time I reached the front door. I placed the crap filled paper bag on the doorstep, lit that puppy on fire and rang the door bell. Then I took off running like a bat out of hell, laughing hysterically all the way and dive rolling over the bush to join Jenna and Kari. Together we crouched behind the bush, giggling like school girls, waiting for the show. We didn’t have to wait long. A few seconds later, the door was flung open and Girlyman Greg stood there. We heard a shriek, then “Son of a bitch” and saw Girlyman Greg stamp out the fire with his flip flop. Oh it just doesn’t get any better than that. Crap flew out of the bag and covered his foot. Sweet! Jenna was laughing so hard she could barely hold the video camera steady. Kari fell over laughing and tinkled in her pants. I watched in open mouthed delight as Girlyman Greg hopped around on one foot, hot crap dripping off the other one. Revenge is sweet my friends. We sat and watched, bodies shaking with silent laughter, until Girlyman Greg went back inside and slammed the door.

He took his crapping little dog to someone else’s house the next morning.

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  • Windshields of cars belonging to owners of offending pooches are good places to leave piles of sh!t. Not that I would know or anything.

  • Our house is on a corner where several dogs leave their pile of poop every day. That’s the thing, once a dog leaves it’s calling card, all the other dogs have to join in. It’s like a competition or something, the dog poop Olympics. Trying to identify the culprits would require me to be up and functioning at 5 AM, so am considering other options. Set up a video camera? Snare trap? Bunji pit? If I have to clean up the messes every day I would at least enjoy dropping them off with the rightful owners. I hadn’t seriously considered the burning bag method until now…..

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  • I know what you are talking about here. We had a neighbor who let their big dog run free all the time. The dog was friendly, did not poop in the yard, and just all the kids knew and loved the dog. So I kind of ignored the situation. I am a dog person too. I do however keep my dogs in the fenced yard.
    This dog liked MY garbage can. I had a child in diapers. He would tip the can over and rip the bags of garbage apart and then eat the poop diapers. He left a huge nasty mess in my yard twice a week. (we have 2 times a week garbage pick up) I tried talking to the neighbor. Got no where. I called the police and got no where…then I got MAD AS HELL AND I AM NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANY MORE MAD if you know what I mean. I took all the garbage, poop, shredded diapers, and baby wipes and gathered it up into the can walked over to their front door. I rang the bell and put the garbage at their front door. POINT taken. They kept the dog in on trash days.

  • You know that you have to put that video up here. That is the stuff movies are made of!!

  • I was laughing so hard at “Girlyman Greg” and “Lumberjack Laura” I almost didn’t even make it to the hot poo – so funny – as usual!

    Thanks for linking up to #findingthefunny!

  • This had me CRACKING up! You need your own T.V. show. Write a book! Something, this is great!! You were bookmarked last week but now I don’t think I’ll be able to go a day or two without checking in on you for an update!!

    I found you through Finding the Funny! I hope you’ll stop by my blog sometime!


  • Oh…and can we get that video?


  • Awesome. I may have to use this tactic soon. Since I’m in the process of getting back into shape, I shouldn’t have any trouble with the spry getaway. =)