I dedicate this post to Jess, my new muse.
 

Sundays are often lazy days around my house. Girlfriend works nights, so she usually spends Sunday afternoons sleeping before work. During those "quiet hours" The Kid and I will often go to the park, visit one of the grandparents, read books, or whatever. This weekend The Kid decided to take a nap too, so I had a few hours to myself.

As I stood in the living room wondering what to do with my little bit of freedom, I remembered something that happened about an hour earlier. The Kid went out to the garage alone to look for a toy he thought he'd left in the car. I thought it might be a good idea to step out and make sure he'd closed the car door behind him.

I was outside less than thirty seconds, but that was plenty of time for an ambush. The old guy who lives in the house next to mine will often sit in a certain spot in his living room where he can glance out his window and see me entering and leaving through my patio door. At least once a week he hustles out his back door to catch me and ask some computer-related question. Or sometimes to just talk, and get away from his wife.

Yesterday was a little bit of both. My neighbor's very elderly mother-in-law was visiting, so when he saw me he jumped at the chance to get away from her. We spent several minutes chatting back and forth about the 91 year-old house guest who was currently driving him bat shit crazy. Then he moved on to the day's question.

He wanted to know the best way to hide his downloaded porn collection. Old Porn Neighbor usually asks a pornography-related question once a month or so. [To be clear, he is an old guy who is my neighbor and likes porn, not a neighbor who likes old people porn.] He's asked about how to tell legal from illegal porn, criminal liability should he accidentally download something illegal, the best way to conceal his newsreader without breaking the program's functionality, secure deletion methods, etc. My favorite question is one he's asked several times in various ways.

"What's the best way to hide my porn from my wife?" Every time he asks that, I have a hard time not snickering at him. It's a little creepy talking about pornography with a guy who collect Social Security checks, but he's really a sweet, harmless old man. He and his wife bring us fresh vegetables when they visit the Farmer's Market, and in the winter he often cleans off our sidewalk with his snowblower.

It's not something I'd care to dwell on, but it would not surprise me to find that his, umm… night life… is no longer as satisfying as he'd like. I don't begrudge him his porn habits, but it's still weird talking with him about it.

A few weeks ago, I did a bad thing. Well, kinda bad.

No, it's bad. There's no way around it. It's a bad thing. I was justified, but it's still bad.

First, the background info: I hate dogs. Hate them. Loathe them. Despise them. Dogs are dirty, smelly, and noisy. They're always jumping at me. They're always sticking their wet snouts at me, or worse, trying to lick me. They're always getting into things, knocking things over, making a mess. They bark in the middle of the night. They embarrass their owners in front of guests. Their hair gets on everything. They will eat anything that will fit in their mouths, no matter how disgusting. They'll even eat their own waste. Oh, and the waste! A dog will shit on anything… including my lawn.

My neighbors have a dog. As I am the antithesis of a dog lover, I've never bothered to learn how to identify various breeds. It's some kind of hound, I think. My neighbor bought it to use as a "huntin' dog." I can't imagine he's actually using this dog for hunting, but whatever. As a breed designed as a huntin' dog, this animal is especially energetic. Probably at some deep genetic level, this dog is meant for bounding through fields while chasing grouse.

My neighbors also have two pre-K children, so anytime the family is outside their attention is focused pretty heavily on keeping the little ones out of traffic. The dog runs about more or less as it pleases while Mom and Pop are occupied.

Considering it's merely a dog, it's quite understandable that it has no concept of property lines. It's also forgivable that the dog never says anything like, "Excuse me Madam, but I should tell you that I've gone and done my business in the neighbor's yard again." Actually, if the dog were to do that, I think it should also wear a blue smoking jacket and speak with a slight Cornish accent.

So I don't really blame the dog for the large collection of dog shit in my yard. I blame the neighbors, of course. Their yard, which is incidentally about half the size of mine, is cleaned on an almost daily basis. I've never once seen them cleaning up after their dog in my yard.

About two weeks ago, I watched their dog leave piles in my yard twice in one day. I waited until the next day, hoping they might have cleaned up after their pet. They had not.

So I went into the garage and grabbed a shovel. Then I very carefully and methodically took every single dog turd out of my yard and flipped them all into their driveway. I found about ten piles of varying sizes. When flung, these piles broke apart into smaller chunks. So by the time I was finished there were dozens of much smaller piles scattered everywhere over a twenty foot section of their driveway.

The distribution was pretty even. I mean it was everywhere. Had they walked from their house to their garage in the dark, they'd have probably sullied their shoes ten times over. And maybe they did. I don't know what their reaction was when they found the mess. The next day I snuck a peek and saw that they'd cleaned the driveway. And fortunately, they didn't toss any of it back into my yard.

Now, I realize that what I did is probably the most childish and inflammatory thing I could have possibly done in this situation. But damn was it satisfying. Luckily I didn't see the neighbors for a few days after that. I've now seen them several times since and they're just as bright and friendly as they usually are. Thank goodness. I don't regret the turd-flinging, but I'm damn glad I didn't start a neighbor feud.