Deagle Deagle Deagle

I had a precious moment this morning. I was part of a suburban cliché scene. And you know how much I love suburban cliché.

First, I will admit that it was pretty much my fault. If anyone’s to blame, it would be me. Obviously.

I was watching my girlfriend’s dog, and let her out to pee (the dog, not the girlfriend). It was first thing in the morning, so I groggily wandered back to check my email to find another angry customer waiting. Then I hear someone yelling at the dog. Damn it. Usually the dog sticks to her own yard, but sometimes in daylight hours she gets overzealous.

This house doesn’t have a fence, but the next one over does. The lady was standing out there with a sun hat and water hose, resembling a cartoon by Hank Ketcham. The dog, whom we often refer to as Badness, was running excitedly along the perimeter of the fence, the neighbor’s two dogs barking furiously. I want to point out that my client, Badness, is trained not to even bark at other dogs. Yet these two dog-hamster hybrids were creating quite a racket.

Anyway, I run out there and the lady yells three times (three, I counted), “She nearly killed my cat!” My detective mind made a note that this neighbor knew the gender of the dog, and I filed it away for further investigation (Badness probably has priors).

Of course, I apologized to this woman several times, reassuring her that the dog just “got away from me,” that it’s not a daily occurrence. Unlike many Americans, I do what is socially the right thing to do, not instantly morphing into a self-righteous hypocrite. Seriously, most people instantly turn against their neighbor on any issue, simply because they aren’t acquainted and it’s easy to vilify a stranger, but if the tables were turned they’d have the opposite stance (hence my use of the word hypocrite). I am not a hypocrite, and I have the Self-Awareness to see from a narrative perspective and do and say what is polite and proper. And so I did.

But I also have a blog. Yes, a blog… where I can say what I would have said, had Patton Oswalt’s “social contract” not kicked in.

Ahem.

”Lady, you have a fence. That means that the dog can’t invade your space. That’s why you have the fence! So let’s be fair: if the cat strays from its own fenced-in yard, guess what—that’s why we call it a stray cat! If the cat has wandered past the Seal, then it’s not in your yard anymore, and all bets are off. Technically, the dog wasn’t in your yard. And even if she were, you are holding a hose. That means you aren’t defenseless. You can protect your precious kitty. If dogs are supposed to be kept in their own yards, then by God so are cats! That’s a double standard! All bets are off. And what do you mean nearly killed your cat? How near? The dog isn’t even barking, she’s just running happily back and forth, so I don’t think she’s in a hunter mindset. Maybe if your own dogs weren’t little wind-up toys, you’d know a few things about how Border Collies think. Come off it, she didn’t nearly kill anything. And again… YOU HAVE A FENCE!! How can she “nearly” kill your cat when you have a fence? The little fucker has nine lives anyway, so take it easy. “Nearly” is an awfully convenient unit of measurement, isn’t it? Very subjective, that one. The perceived nearness to killing is directly proportional to the observer’s level of melodrama. Fuck your cat, I hope it dies of cat syphilis.”

But I couldn’t say the things that spring into my bitter mind. No, I had to do the right thing, and so I did. Because I can and do see it from her point of view. She’s mistaken about some facts, but I forgive her because for her it’s an emotional thing, and emotion almost always drives a person to exaggerate and escalate. So after I apologized a few times I pretty much ignored her. Of course, it’s not my house so I don’t want to directly piss off the neighbors. That would be… ill advised.

A suburban cliché. Stay out of my yard, that dog is a menace, I’m so sorry ma’am, my precious kitty, bad dog bad dog… and those two little quasi-dogs and the lady’s kitschy yard and water hose… for some reason, all I could think of was Mrs. Deagle from Gremlins.

I don’t mind offering disingenuous apologies just to smooth ruffled feathers, but…

I hate suburbia with a deep-seated passion.