So, I'm standing in my living room letting my mind wander for a minute or two as I stare out the window and watch the day go by, and I see my neighbors walking their dogs down the street. They are nice neighbors who are always friendly and responsible with their property. That is to say they aren't like the other neighbors who heap rubbish behind their house like Ma and Pa Kettle and let their dogs bark for thirty minutes at a time .
Anyway, I see the nice people walking their dogs, a big golden retriever who is as sweet as can be and as dumb as a post—he once ate a sock and nearly died before it was surgically removed—and a new golden retriever puppy. Then I see Neighbor Wife suddenly run down the street with the big dog. Then I see Neighbor Husband stopped in front of my house with the puppy on its leash. And then I see the puppy taking a huge dump in my grass. Let me tell you, that is not done in this town unless the dog owner has a plastic bag handy and is ready to pick up the mound of poo and dispose of it properly. I suspected this doggy act of yard vandalism was unexpected, and Neighbor Husband wasn't prepared with a plastic bag. That would explain Wife's running away with the sock eater, although she had no idea I was watching. Neighbor Husband could only tug at the leash and lead the dog away, leaving this pile in my grass uncovered and ready for someone to step in. I was shocked.
A little while later, long enough for people to take their dogs for a walk, Daughter No. 2 was looking out the window just as Nice Neighbors were walking back up the hill. Being as disturbed and I was by the mound of dog poo in our front yard, No. 2 tapped on the window as a kind of joke, not realizing the tap would be heard from the street. Well, it was heard from the street, and Nice Neighbors looked up to see us standing there gawking at them and their dogs and the poo. We dashed out of sight, mortified we might look as if we were spying, but it was too late. And now we looked as if we had been spying and hiding. We had witnessed their bad dog deed, and now they knew we knew.
Later that night we were out on the town and by chance saw Nice Neighbors, and we walked a huge circle around them so as not to come face to face. Funny how they did something offensive, but we were the ones to be embarrassed. It just seemed easier to avoid them than to face them and put them in the position of having to apologize, assuming they would have. I guess we were giving them a bit of grace because they are so nice. Now, if the Kettle's dog had dumped in my yard, I might be writing a different kind of story. I might be writing a story about a flaming pile of dog crap on their front porch. Do you think I'd really follow through with such a prank? I don't either, but it's fun to think about.