So I finally met the neighbors. So to speak. To the south, we have Cindy. I have no idea what she looks like because we "met" through the backyard fence. She seems nice enough, and when I picture her, I picture Reba McEntire. Don't ask me why. Maybe the slight twang in her voice. She owns two beagles that howl like banshees. Under ordinary circumstances, this would be a problem, but one of my dogs is a barker and it takes very little to set her off. Being surrounded by other dogs, one of my initial fears was that the neighbors would quickly grow to hate us with my little one yapping in the backyard. But problem solved - the minute mine starts barking it sets off the beagles like an air raid siren and she's quickly drowned out. I think we can safely deflect any neighborhood wrath next door for the forseeable future. And I could see us becoming friends with Cindy one day. I hope she drinks.
The other side is another story. Her name is Mary. At least I think that's what she grunted when I tried to introduce myself. She turned tail and scurried away. If they ever decide to do a local production of "Doubt", they have their Sister Aloysius. She has the vicious, busy body nun thing down pat. I think the jig is up with Mary. I think she k n o w s. I wasn't there when the furniture was delivered, but I picture her milling about on the sidewalk, checking to see how many mattresses move in. And then running for her pitchfork. If you're looking for someone to organize a neighborhood book burning, I think Mary's your gal.
Mary is going to be a problem.
