Friday, May 18, 2012

Part III Won't you be my neighbor?

    It's safe to say the initial few months on our current property were rife with rocky moments.  The new barn was going well, customers were happy, the horses loved it here, we loved it here, the cats loved it here and our dogs really loved it here, because they instantly turned into wild savages. Don't let the above picture fool you, because they became uncontrollable killers of woodchucks, our distant neighbor's chicken colony (that was awful!!) and Remy bit a fist sized hole into the flank of the neighbor's black lab, during a play episode that got too rough. The neighbor's seemed cool about their dog's wounding and I volunteered to pay all the vet bills, but the animosity started that day.  We immediately installed Invisible Fence to keep our dogs on our property, safely away from the neighbor's yard (and the chicken coop), but from that day forward, I sensed the neighbor's palpable irritation with our presence on the property.  And two years later, it hasn't gotten any better.

  To get to their home,  our neighbors have to drive by our house and barn.  The matriarch of the family wears the pants. She's a pudgy, balding woman (might explain some of her anger), mother to three very polite kids, wife to the barn manager, Jorge and iron fisted ruler of her domain, would best describe her. She's Mexican, doesn't speak much english and she hates us.  HATES us. If her glares could kill us, we'd be dead a thousand times over.  I always dutifully wave to her when she drives by, but I avert my eyes. Who wants to look into the beady eyes of death every day? It gets boring. I get it. You've killed me, Mommy. I'm dead. Anything else?

Here's me when she drives by: "Okay, angry bald woman, hello! Goodbye! Screw you!" I wave.  And I shake my long, luxurious, brown locks. Take that, bald bitch. It might be childish on my part, but she's a miserable puta, and I use what I can to tell her to shove it up her arse.

  We've had some minor issues with the dogs, since the flank biting incident. All have ended peacefully. The dogs have learned to get along. The Lab is dumb, but he figured it out. Don't play too roughly and no one gets bitten. They cavort in a peaceful manner. I actually like the lab, but he doesn't speak english and my rudimentary high school spanish doesn't seem to work with him.

"Vamanos!" I tell the lab when I want him to go home. "Tu necesitas a ir a tu casa!" My high school spanish doesn't seem to hit home. It's too formal. He gives me cold looks, not much different than Mommy. I stare into his beady, brown eyes and hiss, "Go home, diablo!" This elicits big barks, but he exits, tail between his black haunches. Ha ha, victory, Diablo.

  However, the black lab devil has become increasingly interested in my cats. I sense malevolence. This is no bueno. I don't think he'd hurt them, but I can't take any chances. One day a few weeks ago, the lab was at my steps, looming over my senior citizen cat, Miss Girl. He barked. She shrank. I pounced. I ran at him with a broom in my hand and yelled," Get out!"  Now, I should know by now the damn dog doesn't speak english, but the moment was hot! I was worried for Miss Girl. She's my most precious kitty and she's deaf, old and virtually defenseless. Well, the big, balding Mommy saw this incident and now I've become the "Diabla' of the property.

  Frankly, even I have become bored with this role. I'm no Diabla.  I had a recent  confrontation with Mommy about keeping an eye on her dog so he doesn't endanger my cats. And I held my cool. She wanted to fight, but I refused. It's just not my nature. I told Mommy that I was worried about my cats, they mean so much to me and after all, (rubbing my stomach, emphatically) "I can't have children, my animals are my children," I implored.

Aahhh, Mommy melted. I hit the Latino Mommy jackpot with that statement. I think I won a Latino Emmy award. Familia es muy importante.

Things have improved over the last few weeks. The lab seems to be under control.   Mommy has been grudgingly waving. It's a tight, clipped wave, but whatever. She's fat and bald, I get it.

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