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Well ... My neighbor was just out on his newly refurbished deck (two planks of ply wood to patch up the gaping hole from where he tore his dilapidated stairway down.) My dog was out barking ... as usual ... because for some reason, he just doesn't like that neighbor. Hmmmm. I doubt it has anything to do with the fact that my husband has caught the neighbor spraying our dog with water a couple of times, not to mention cursing at him under his breath while he pretends to do yard work.

We have some other neighbors who were setting up some sort of tent for an out-of-doors party and so I was out there trying to wrangle Edgar into the house. I had succumbed to luring him in to the house with treats because he just wouldn't come this time. He's a slippery bugger. Anyway, I hear this, broadcasting from the 5 X 5' deck next door, "I can get you a shock collar. You can borrow it. You can zap 'im every time he barks ... just nail 'im."

Uhhh.

Uhhh.

"No. That's okay. I have a student whose step dad tried a shock collar on one time, to see how it felt and he said it hurt like hell."

"Well, does your student's stepfather have a bunch of fur around his neck? I'm mean .. it'll git 'im, it'll shock 'im, but it won't damage 'im or nothin'. It's not abuse. It's made for dogs not people. It's like a cattle prod."

AAAH. A cattle prod ... Is that all?

He continued, "All I know is that if you keep givin' 'im treats when he barks, he's just thinkin' 'Ah! I'm a good boy!' I do have dog-handling experience, you know."

Here's is what I said: "Oh, yeah. That's makes sense. This is just sort of a one-time thing for immediate action. Thanks man ... I hope your arm feels better." (It's broken.)

Here is what I WANTED to say, but allowed this tirade to remain tucked neatly inside my head, probably where it belongs ... I don't know: "Really. Thank you for the advice. Since you feel entitled to bark dog-rearing advice from atop your grand palace's ... deck, then I feel entitled to give you some parenting and lifestyle advice from down here on Earth. Let's start with giving your 12-year-old and 7-year-old daughters a reasonable curfew ... midnight's a bit late for them to be roaming unsupervised, especially since they like to shriek and carry-on while outside. Also, I don't judge those adults who choose to relax with a nice fat blunt from time to time, but when clouds of ditchweed smoke float from your window to my front yard, on a daily basis, my judgment hackles do tend to rise, particularly when I know your children are in the house with you. My second piece of advice is to cut down on the greens, at least while your children are in your care. And finally, your little daughter was over here the other day and she was complaining that her daddy doesn't have any food in the house. I offered to make her a sandwich but she said she was going to her mom's house in a few minutes and would be able to eat there. I noticed that you always have a trash can (not recycling bin, I also noticed) full of beer cans. My third piece of advice is to regularly invest in nutritious food for your children in place of the case of beer that apparently currently takes precedence. Oh, and by the way ... What is it that you do for a living?"

In the words of Atticus Finch, I'm pretty sure he "buys cotton."

Don't judge, lest ye be judged.

I honestly try not to judge anyone, but when you live next to someone who lives the way this man lives, it's hard to bite one's tongue. But I do.

Learn more about this author, Jay Morgetron.
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