When we last checked in, life was, for the moment, good. Then I walked back into the house, wrote the previous post, and answered the door to a neighbor who came by to complain about all the trouble my son and his friends have been causing in the neighborhood. I heard about plum battles, broken sprinkler heads, someone throwing a watermelon at a truck and various other hoodlum-like goings-on. Protestations of innocence and questionable stories on all sides. He also informed me that "someone" called the police on them and officers were going to visit the school the next day.
Then today, I came home to an official notice to call more police or receive a $330 citation. Seems my dog was At Large. (Henry: "Where's Large?") It appears that another one of those innocent children left the gate open and Bindi went dancing around on the street after I went to work. Some helpful neighbor called the police rather than looking at her tags and putting her back inside. The pleasant officer said to me: "You know how it is, she looks like a pitbull and people think they're all killers." She seemed pretty docile to him so he put her back in her pen rather than hauling her in to the pokey. Thank you, Mr. Policemen. I wonder if he was the same one who lectured the kids at school today.
So somehow we've become one of those families who get the cops called on them twice in one day. I don't know how that happened. I guess life is still good, but we might have to move.
A bad boy and his killer dog.
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