A Peck of Gold

I'd Hate to Be This Dog

It's been a while since I've written about My Crazy Neighbor, she's been a tad aloof since the Peanut Butter Incident. She did give me a little blog material this afternoon, however, as she was calling her dogs inside. I notice this about once a week- she lets her dogs out of the apartment every day to let them do their dirty business (which is EVERYWHERE by the freaking way). When it's time to call them, she doesn't do it like a normal human being, "Here Poochie, Poochie, time to come in". Oh no. She lets loose this ungodly scream like a banshee that reverberates through the neighborhood. It's insane. NOBODY calls their dog like this. It's the kind of scream you would give when someone is about to be hit by a runaway 18 wheeler: the kind you reserve for emergencies, and extreme tragedy. So she's in a frothing fit, gnashing her teeth, ripping her hair, screeching at the top of her lungs, and of course the dog doesn't come. He knows she's a maniac, I know she's a maniac, the whole NEIGHBORHOOD knows she's a maniac.

Run, little dog, and don't look back! Run as fast as your - oh wait. She caught you again. Dangit. Sorry bout that.

Keep trying, Boy.