Law and Disorder

The day after the fateful game at some point in the afternoon, a local policeman came to my door.  Now, keep in mind that the last time a law enforcement official came to my door it was to deliver devastating news, so I had a moment of dizzy anxiety wondering what I was about to be told.  When he told me he was here on a noise complaint, I was relieved, amused, angry and befuddled all at the same time.

The scene of the "crime" in more peaceful times

Turns out, while I was completely absorbed in the game the night before, he had been called over.  Knocking on the front door didn't get my attention:  the sports cave was downstairs opposite the front door and well insulated.  The world could end, and I might not have realized it from down there.  So he walked to the gate and Ripley barked at him.  Of course she did.  Dogs bark at strangers.  It's what you want them to do.  But, also of course, that nailed her.  And me.

So I was being issued a summons.  He very patiently explained my options, which were to plead guilty and pay a fine, or contest it, upon which Ripley and I would basically be on probation for six months (if I recall correctly) and we'd all see if there are any more complaints.  None, and we're fine.  More, and I could face losing her, among other things, but the losing her part was what sticks in my memory.  I should mention the fine was steep - $600 comes to mind.  At this point, I was less amused and more angry.  He only got peevish with me once, and it was when I let that show.  He reminded he had better things to do than proctor petty disputes among neighbors.  I agree with that sentiment (although Shaler isn't exactly a hotbed of crime), so I took it down a notch and let him tell me the ground rules, which he did a genuinely great job of.   But what he wouldn't tell me was who had complained.  As I stood there scanning my neighbors' houses, all of whom I knew and genuinely liked, that's an odd feeling.  Like finding out your husband cheated.  Why wouldn't they come and talk to me?

Well, he said his peace, and off he went to keep the Township safe from the likes of me, and I stewed in the mixture of embarrassment, anger, and mystery.  But here's another thing about Yinzers that I have, perhaps to my shame, embraced wholeheartedly:  they're "nebby" (or nosy to all yinz who are not from here).  So it didn't take long for word to spread about what happened (heck, I was the one spreading it, trying to flush out the complainer), and it was pretty widely theorized it was my silent treatment neighbor.  But a friend of hers solved the mystery beyond any doubt when he showed up to visit the following Saturday while I was working in the yard.  Clearly delightfully buzzed, he loudly asked her as she came out to greet him how that noise problem was going and purposefully looked my way.  Then, I swear this is true, he offered to shoot "her" (not sure if he meant me or my dog) for $0.25.  She shushed him and quickly ushered him inside, but I had my answer.

And the war had officially begun.  Seriously, (bleep), did your drunk friend really just threaten to shoot me?!  Or maybe my dog?  Does it matter which one?  Did that really just happen?!

Now, I know before you say it, a reasonable individual should have just gone and talked to them and found out what her pain points were and offered to alleviate them.  And I did think about it.  A lot.  But after that comment, which in some ways probably helped our legal situation I can now look back and say,  I couldn't bring myself to do it.  But I'll give myself credit for not going too far the other way either.  I didn't file a terroristic threat complaint after that comment (it wouldn't have stood anyway, "her" is too ambiguous a comment - could have been anyone - and I didn't know her friend's name, and he was the one who made it).  But, to my credit, I also didn't in turn call the police on her loud garden parties that sometimes extended well past midnight, including the one on a Sunday evening when I had a migraine.

I did, however, yell out my window at them that night.  And I did rather immaturely lean out my window in their direction every time I heard any of the neighbors' dogs barking and yell at the top of my lungs "That's not MY dog!"  And when they came outside on their upper deck if the dogs were already out there, I would usher my pets in with my best stage whisper, "Come in now, they hate you."  Not my proudest moments most assuredly, but you know how Mama Bears get when their "children" are attacked.  And I secretly delighted imagining her reaction as the Collie Army assembled.  First Geddy, then Rooney to make three.  Count 'em, lady, one, two, three collies.

Geddy's first day

Rooney joins the team

The neighbors, for their part, erected a monstrosity of a 6' tall plastic fence along the side of the yard between us.  On my property line, no less.  I referred to it as their Great Wall of China.

But no one ever complained about Ripley, or any of the dogs, again.   Charges were eventually dropped, and I even got my court fee rebated back.  So, two brief appearances in court, and Ripley and I were free women again.  I wonder sometimes if the fact the neighbor knew I heard that comment stayed her dialing hand.

But I did genuinely work to change how I managed the dogs, although I rejected any idea of using a bark collar or some sort of ultrasonic device.  It came down to just being highly vigilant.  I rarely let them out without supervision at all, but never after dark.  When we were out of the house, they stayed in the sports cave instead of outside in the yard, no matter the weather.  That felt foreign and wrong to me, but it is the norm, I would find in a suburban setting like this one.  Most of the dogs in my neighborhood spent far less time outdoors in their fenceless yards than mine were able to.

Watching our baseball indoors

Despite how it was managed by all parties (I don't hold any of us blameless, including the Township that essentially proceeded on a complaint without allowing me to confront my accuser), it was a valuable lesson in city life as opposed to the semi-rural life I had come from.  And it taught me exactly how "chatty" collies could be, and how not everyone would find that charming.

Geddy explains something in "collie"

As for my beloved Penguins, they went on to win the series with the Columbus Blue Jackets, but would be knocked out in the next round.  I was the noise maker that night because I went outside on the back porch and cried for a while (I really like the Penguins, what can I tell you).   But, of course, that's all behind us, and we are the current Stanley Cup Champions, so even that too eventually had its happy ending.

What happened to my neighbor and I, you ask?  I only spoke to her once, and that was at another neighbor's funeral, where we exchanged pleasantries briefly albeit awkwardly.  And we no longer live there.  While that was not the primary reason we moved, it certainly was counted among them.  Last I heard the family that moved in on the other side from them had two dogs, and the young couple who bought my house wanted that large fenced yard to get a dog of their own.  What can I say?  Sometimes Karma is a cold, hard female dog.