When we moved into our house, it didn’t have a fenced yard. That was kind of a downside since we have a two year old son who loves to play outside and a dog. But we really liked the house and it seemed like a fence wouldn’t be hard to get. If you aren’t from western Oklahoma, you probably don’t know that you just can’t get any kind of fence – no, sir – it has to be a big, wooden fence for which many trees must die. I’m not sure why but it might have to do with attempting to block the 50 mph wind gusts. Anyway, we thought it wouldn’t be a big deal to get a fence once we moved in. But that was before the furnace/air conditioner went out and the garage door had to be replaced and we had to call the roto-rooter for the plumbing and the new gutters had to be put on to stop the yard from flooding. After all that, we have one heck of a nice house, but still no fence. And in case you haven’t priced big wooden tree-murdering fences lately, they are really expensive. So we have lived without one until now. Our neighbors don’t have a fence either so it doesn’t seem like as big of a deal.
Last week, I was sitting in the rocking chair in the living room, enjoying a peaceful moment with my 5 month old son, Wyatt. We were cuddling and gazing out the window at our “yard bling” - a bale of hay and some pumpkins in the front yard which I plan to keep there until after Thanksgiving. It was almost mesmerizing to rock with him and watch the wind blowing the leaves on the trees and the neighbor’s dog trotting through. And then the neighbor’s dog, a big hunting dog, raised his leg and pooped right on my pumpkins. RIGHT ON MY PUMPKINS. Peaceful moment over, I jumped out of the chair and ran to the door to scream not so nice things at the dog and chase him away. I went out to inspect my pumpkins and found not just that one, but almost a dozen pieces of evidence that the dog views my “yard bling” as his own personal toilet. I didn’t even know dogs could poop at an upward angle…
I consider myself to be an animal lover, especially a dog lover, but this dog was suddenly on my shit(e) list. I mentioned the pooping incident a few days later to my mother in law and she said, “Oh, does this mean you haven’t seen Wesley’s playhouse?” I went to inspect said playhouse and found several turds pasted to the side of it. It appears that this dog has magical poop that defies the laws of physics and gravity.
I wanted to march right next door and return their dog’s “goods” back to them. But I can’t – because I have a dog, too. The fact that my dog weighs eight pounds and is what I like to call a “recycler” is irrelevant. Because my dog poops in their yard sometimes. And if they really wanted to take a magnifying glass outside and search for her microscopic turd crumbs, they could probably find some and return those to us.
So this week, Bryan has built us a fence. A big, glorious, wooden fence all around the backyard. I’m so thankful to him for his hard work. This will keep our dog in and their dogs out. It won’t keep my front yard safe, but it will keep the backyard (and playhouse) safe from the magical pooper.
But if he poops on the new fence, I’m getting a b-b gun.