About a year ago the evil standard poodle that lives next door jumped on our beloved Andy for the fourth or fifth time. Andy is getting old, and that shitty high-stepper was getting the better of him. So my son intervened.
And an hour later we were all sitting in the emergency room while the older kid was being treated for a rather severe dog bite on the hand. You can read about that stressful day here.
There’s something spooky and deranged about that poofter hound. It’s hyper-aggressive, but… you know, a poodle. Imagine if Liberace had spent time in Saddam Hussien’s Republican Guard, and was trained to kill with his hands. That’s how it feels to me.
Our neighbors believed we reported them, but we didn’t. The hospital contacted someone about the incident, and a visitor appeared shortly thereafter. They were told that if there’s one more incident with that asshole of a dog, it would be removed from their home and destroyed.
We had nothing to do with that, but I didn’t lose any sleep over it. We did insist they pay the medical bills, which happened. It’s not a white trash situation, or anything like that; Billy Bob and Shirlene don’t live over there. But there was tension, which is amazing to me. If the roles had been reversed I would’ve felt horrible, and would never stop apologizing. They said very little to us, and there was an unspoken implication that we were the unreasonable ones.
They’ve been better with their well-groomed assassin though, and only take it out on a leash. Sometimes, when I’m dragging our trash cans to the curb, I hear it going wild inside their house, possibly leaping and throwing its body against the walls. Holy shit.
But there were no further incidents. Until Monday, that is.
I was out there with Andy around midnight, allowing him to sling some urine before bed. He was on a leash, and everything was quiet and calm. Then I saw something white moving at a high rate of speed in my peripheral vision. I turned and it was that bag of shit from next door again, charging at us full-on. Here we go!
Before it could get at Andy again, I kicked it hard in the face, but it recovered instantly and continued its assault. WTF?? I was yelling and kicking, and trying to keep Andy away from it. Our dog was now pissed too, and ready to rumble. I got several good kicks in, but it felt like some switch had been thrown inside the demented poodle’s head, and it would’ve kept attacking even if the back-half of its body had been blown off.
Somebody from next door — a female voice — began yelling something, and the dog abruptly stopped its attack and ran off.
Andy had not been touched, but was jacked on adrenaline. I don’t think he stopped panting until mid-afternoon the next day; he was a perpetual panting machine.
Toney had been in bed, but was now up. And she was PISSED. “I’m calling the Humane Society, first thing tomorrow. This is bullshit,” she kept saying.
But I knew they’d kill the dog, and even though I hate the thing… the idea of us becoming doggie executioners makes me feel queasy. I convinced her we should give them one more chance, and she finally relented. However, the next time one of us sees any of the neighbors out there, we’ll tell them about it. That was the plan. We’d make it clear there would be no more such reprieves.
And on Tuesday or Wednesday, Toney had a conversation with the husband. And the guy was a jerk about it. It blows my mind, how people can twist situations inside their minds.
His evil dog jumped on our PERFECT dog multiple times, unprovoked. His evil dog bit our son, and caused him to spend an afternoon in the emergency room. They were warned by authorities that if there were any further incidents their evil dog was finished. And there was a further incident, when their evil dog attacked our PERFECT dog again, but we decided to give them a pass on it.
And we’re the assholes?! Wow.
Adam Carolla always talks about friends and family members who borrow money from him, never pay it back, and get all huffy when he brings it up five years later. I guess there’s no end to some folks’ abilities to justify and shift the blame. Right?
I can tell you one thing, though. If it happens again, that poodle is going up a goddamn chimney, and its ashes will quietly settle on the cars of our little town while Toney and I enjoy a cold beverage on the veranda.
And for the record, the photo above is NOT the actual dog, but looks exactly like it. Evil!
I hope you guys have a great weekend. Thanks for reading, and all you do!
I’ll see you again on Monday.