Neighbors

Some ya just gotta love. Others? Notsomuch.

A couple of months ago, one set of neighbors complained to the cops about our dog, a well-behaved medium-sized dog (Lab/Aussie Shepherd mix) who is just a real lover boy with family and strangers alike (no watch dog at all *sigh*), said “that big black dog” was “scaring” the children they had over from time to time.

Cops came and “interviewed” the dog. Found him to be a “real sweetheart.”

Still, pussy kids or asinine neighbor or both, irritating.

Not a word from the neighbors since the cops went back and told ’em he was properly tagged, well-behaved, and behind a proper-sized, continuous, locked fence, and so was not their problem.

Saw some of their family visitors over next door this a.m. with one of the residents of the home out with them. . . and a small dog running free. Told ’em to get that dog on a leash or I’d call the cops on them. (They have no fence and the “city” does have leash laws.)

When next I checked, they’d all gone inside, but I’ll check back, with phone in hand. . . because I meant it.

(OTOH, our good neighbors on the other side let one or two of their Jack Russell Terriers out in their front yard from time to time. Usually they’re either inside or in their kennel, but when outside off leash, they’re well-behaved, so I really don’t care. Heck, I enjoy interacting with ’em, and enjoy the times our good neighbora let ’em come over and play for a bit with me.)

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