taking the passive out of passive-aggressive

Sunday, December 12, 2004

Until recently, I had never hated a dog before. Sure, I'd met skittish dogs, dangerous dogs, annoying dogs--but still, I could never hate a dog. Behind each of those bad dogs was a story, after all, a story of a good dog gone wrong. And so to hate them was simply impossible.

And then I met Bert*.

Bert is the neighbor's dog, and he is not merely bad and annoying and troublesome and ill-cared-for. He is, simply put, evil. You look this dog in the eye and you know that this dog never "went wrong"--this dog was born wrong.

Bert is not a house dog. Bert is allowed to roam free at all hours of the day and night, even while his owners are at work. Never mind that on at least three occasisions, Bert has been hopelessly lost, causing much inexplicable handwringing and occaisioning the posting of thousands of posters around the neighborhood. Never mind that we live in a city, not in the country or even the rural suburbs. Never mind that Bert is known to threaten mailmen and small children with his vicious bark. Never mind that the guy down the street has pointedly sent letters to the neighborhood begging that dogs be kept on leashes so they don't destroy other people's property. And never mind that it's AGAINST THE LAW.

No, Bert needs to be free. Bert obviously cannot be consigned to an ordinary dog's life of walks or even, clearly, a fenced yard.

Or perhaps his owners also know that he is evil, and they don't want him in the house.

We have trash day twice a week. Bert knows when it's trash day. I can almost picture him lying there dreaming about it the night before. Every morning on trash day, Bert trots over to my house, knocks over my sealed garbage cans, works the lids off, and proceeds to strew dirty diapers and old food all across my sidewalk. Since I'm usually awake, I run out there in my PJs screaming at him. "GET OUT, you little FUCK!" Does Bert run away, ashamed? No! He GROWLS at me and continues to eat my garbage!

I call the neighbors each time this happens. I tell them to please stop letting him out unattended. They say sorry and then it happens again, three days later.

I came to the apogee of my rage this morning, when, getting into my car, I stepped in Bert's dogshit right in front of my house. Bert loves to go potty in everyone else's yard. He goes on my patio. He goes in the neighbor's garden. He just wanders around shitting everywhere all day long.

Not long ago, Bert was lost for the third time. Of course, his family was simply beside themselves. They went around and told all the neighbors--it was even more the Talk of the Block than it was when so-and-so's husband ran out on her. A couple of particularly soft touches helped the family go around and put posters up. Personally, when I heard the news, I was like, oh thank God. But of course Bert was returned home, probably by someone who looked in his eyes and thought, "Uh-uh, I'm not taking YOU in, Satan."

*All names have been changed to protect myself.


At 11:00 AM, Blogger The Cybrarian said...

What's with your assclown neighbors? You need to send them a dog-turd pie, or one of those whatever-it's-called when you put flaming poop in a paper bag on somebody's porch. Now, if you lived in rural North Carolina, it would be completely acceptable, expected even, to shoot the dog as soon as he set paw on your property.* However, this being Mobtown, what about sprinkling your meaty trashcan leftovers with copious amounts of rat poision?

*I too thought it was impossible not to dislike a dog, but I have met this dog, and he is a dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks jackass of an animal.


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