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Crazy old cat lady… sans the cats

The next topic is something that has been bugging me for a while now. It occurs every so often with either Cheryl or myself. I’ve debated if I should really post a story like this here on my website. I mean, the internet is public and google is all knowing. God forbid that my neighbor googles up “crazy old lady” and this post gets returned, I’m sure that there’d probably be lawsuits and knocks on my door with print outs of my website (print stylesheet not available, yet). But, I’m running out of blog fodder and she made herself an easy target.

Let me start off by saying: as responsible dog owners Cheryl and I always pick up after Java. We even bought a baggie holder attached to our leash to avoid the “walking without a little baggie” situation. Also, let me just say that I hate walking the dog (reason: laziness) and dog poop smells kinda funny (obligatory world-changing observation). To me, picking up dog poop is just as enjoyable as getting run over by a 18 wheeler truck over and over again.

One night I was walking Java to the park from my house (please refer to my ghetto 5 minute fireworks diagram). Now, walking to the park, you have to pass crazy lady’s house. While walking, he really likes to play around in the smaller part of the lawn between the sidewalk and the road. On occasion, He’d either poop (which we always pick up) or he pees (in this case we can’t really do anything).

During this night, I guess, he couldn’t hold number 2 any longer and he went infront of crazy lady’s house (still in the smaller part of the lawn). While I’m waiting, I’m getting a baggie from the little holder to scoop up; nothing different about the routine. That’s when I heard some very aggressive window knocking and some muffled yelling through the window.

So at this point in time, Java is in the middle of pooping and she’s acting like some flipped out mental patient behind glass just after someone had stolen their jello. She’s yelling, knocking on the window and screaming for us to move on to the park. Now, what am I supposed to do? (a) Ignore her, (b) Turn around, give her the finger, hope she gets a coronary, pick up after Java and move on with life or (c) Act like a gazelle infront of his impending doom, furiously point to the baggie and make a poop scooping motion.

Sadly readers, being me, I picked option c. When in retrospect, I should’ve used option b with the addition of throwing Java’s poop at her window.

8:10 am