Dear Neighborhood Dogs:
I will never forget the moment you two first appeared in our backyard, trotting around and sniffing everything with great enthusiasm. It was so cute and unexpected. Adorable even – especially when Annie pointed at you and yelled, “Doggies!”
The thing is, when you came back the next day, and then the day after that, and then the freakin’ day after that, it got a whole heck of a lot less cute. Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not saying you aren’t cute dogs. You are. Very much so. Clearly you have good owners who take good care of you. That’s why I don’t understand why the heck won’t stay with them in your our damn yard!
You see this tiny little dog?
Her name is Rigby, and she was very excited to move into a home with her own backyard to run around after six and a half long years cooped up in an apartment.
You know what Rigby doesn’t like? You big, stinky dogs running around her territory and keeping her out of her own backyard.
Rigby also isn’t a fan of your running past our sliding glass doors at six a.m. and forcing her to defend her castle with loud, toddler-waking barks. My husband and I don’t like it either. Especially the “toddler waking” part. It’s not cool, neighborhood dogs.
You know what else isn’t cool? Your stomping through our flowers and bushes with careless abandon and leaving our property looking like the over sized dog crap one of you left beside our lounge chair yesterday.
So here’s the deal, dogs. Stop acting low class. Like mutts. Have a little respect, stay in your own damn yard, and keep out of our space. Don’t make Rigby have to call up her posse of Maltese dogs to take you down. Because they will. Or my husband will.
Consider yourselves warned,
Heather (the lady who screams at you from the windows to “Go!”)