“Hey, Mom, I’ll call you back a bit later,” I said, lowering the phone. Of course, I’d only just called her during my lunch break. I felt pretty bad hanging up just twelve minutes into the call, but the tone of the dogs’ barking had taken on a notable edge. I’d retired to the back room when the walker had arrived, mostly so that my mom and I could hear one another over din of their excitement.
“Callie?” the dogwalker said, knocking my door gently. “Your neighbor’s outside the door, and he’s screaming.”
I opened the front door, confused, only to be hit by a tirade. My neighbor absolutely let loose – something about my dog crapping in his yard?
“We’ve spoken to you multiple times!” he screamed.
“I spoke with your husband once on the elevator,” I replied. “And I cleaned the yard up afterward.” A few weeks back, I’d run into his husband on the elevator. My yard had been a bit neglected from a combination of it being too dark at night, and me being sick.
“No, we definitely spoke to you at least twice,” he responded quickly, leaning in toward the door. “And I’ve been at the front office three times now! It’s been over fifteen minutes, and your dogs still haven’t shut up!”
I bit back a retort about the fact that they had a stranger yelling at their owner, and frowned. “I’ve only spoken to your husband once about it, and I fixed it.”
“She slammed the door in my face!” he shrieked, stepping just into the doorframe and pointing toward the dogwalker. They shrank away, nearly white as a sheet. “We are DONE! I am going to the front office IMMEDIATELY and telling them that you’re STILL letting your dogs crap in my yard!”
I’ll be honest – I paraphrased a fair amount of this conversation, but these are the parts that stand out to me clear as day.
Needless to say, the dogwalker and their girlfriend stayed only long enough to calm down. I felt angry, at first.
And that anger, once my door closed to let them go home, turned into fear.
I felt sick, replaying the scenario in my head. I picked up my phone, finally, mustering up the courage to call the front office.
“Yes, I’d like to report my neighbor. They came to my home and screamed at me, and also acted like they wanted to enter the premise,” I replied, remembering how he’d attempted to step in through the door frame.
The person at the front desk nearly audibly sighed. “It sounds like there’s two sides to this,” he said, finally. “I just don’t understand. You guys have been neighbors for years, and now he’s suddenly screaming at us?” Apparently, the neighbor had been there multiple times. “Anyway, just to remind you – you’ve got to clean up your yard after your dogs go.”
“Yep, I took care of that. Sorry it was neglected a bit those few days, but hasn’t been a problem.”
“And your dogs shouldn’t be outside unattended,” he continued.
“I own two Dobermans – they’re never outside unattended,” I replied. “They’re always on-leash on the patio.”
“Sure, but you still need to be there.”
“I’m… on the porch with them when they go outside.” I felt downright flabbergasted.
“And we also have it reported that you have four pets instead of three?“
Oh, this began to reek of pure dogshit, and that hadn’t come from a Doberman’s ass. “Yes. However, one is a service animal in training leaving on Sunday, and one is an emotional support animal. I was told that those didn’t count toward the limit.”
“I’ll have to check with legal,” he replied. (Spoilers: I was right.)
I hung up after some time. Outside, I heard the barking of dogs. A quick glance out the window showed my neighbor’s dogs on the porch in the small fence my neighbor had set up to allow his dogs to go in-and-out whenever they wanted. I’d never noticed how often they barked, especially when they woke me up at 2 AM the next morning.
Adam came that evening, thankfully. I’d spent most of the day in an odd state, terrified to leave the house but also frustrated about the situation.
The moment he saw me, he knew that it was time for me to say goodbye to my home of two years.
Calligraphy 