Getting up this morning felt like…hmm, I can’t think of what it felt like. But let’s just say it didn’t feel good. I dreamed weird dreams all night, then I was too hot because I’d thrown an extra blanket on myself when I fell asleep last night but never took it off when the temperature changed, and add on to those two things that it was Monday?
Not so pretty.
It’s kind of weirdly warm, humid, and cold all at the same time this morning, too. I put on my fleecy robe only to decide that I was going to boil over from heat; so I tossed it on to the chair where Henry built a nest in it. I threw a cardigan over my shoulders in lieu of the robe and scooped up Henry so I could take him outside. I don’t like to make the poor little guy walk down the stairs in the mornings, he’s too sleepy.
We opened the door and I heard another dog jingling outside, so we closed the door and let the other dog finish up. We don’t leash Henry when we just take him outside to do his doggy thing; he sticks around close and does whatever he needs to do much faster if he can sniff around to his heart’s content to find The Spot.
Anyway, if there are other dogs already out there in the mornings, we just let them be and try again when they’re gone.
A few moments later, I picked Henry up again and opened the door. Right at the bottom of the stairs stood our across-the-way neighbor, the one with the psychotic dogs. At the end of the leash she was holding was the most psychotic of her two dogs: the evil, feral beast that bit Joey once.
We hate that dog. We murmur under our breath about it when we pass the apartment and it goes ape on us from the window and sounds, quite literally, that it will bust through the screen and end our lives by mauling us to death.
Lovely animal. Just lovely.
Actually it’s not, it looks like a combination of a wolf and a fox and that just adds to the feral, evil snarly dog persona it has.
So there they were at the bottom of the stairs, and I stood at the top holding tiny little Henry.
The neighbor (I used to know her name but forgot it after her dog bit Joey because now we think of them as The People With The Feral Dogs That We Don’t Like) glanced up at me, said a bad word that I’ve only typed once before on accident when I misspelled something else, and tugged on her dog’s leash to try to get it to hurry up.
I sighed….and slammed the door.
I slammed it.
WHAM.
It was 6:15 in the morning. That is the only explanation I have for my rude actions.
Now they probably think we’re the rude people who slam our door when we see them, but we still think they’re the rude people with the evil, feral dogs that bite their victims and bark obnoxiously whenever anyone so much as breathes outside. (Judgemental much?)
Wouldn’t y’all just love to be neighbors with us?
