Unsent Letters, October 2014 Edition

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Dear Neighborhood Pet,

The first time I stepped outside my front door and smelled dog feces, I didn't panic.  I figured it was just an unpleasant odor wafting from a neighbor's lawn upon the autumn breeze.  When I came out the next day and smelled the same putrid odor, I investigated.

I have now shoveled your excrement daily for a solid week.  As I type this, I'm sure you've deposited a new pile of gross for me to gag over tomorrow.

Stop defecating on my lawn.

I don't own an animal.  Don't make me deal with the unpleasant parts of pet ownership without any of the perks.

Furiously,
A pooper scooper


Dear Pet Owner Who Clearly Doesn't Responsibly Care for Your Animal's Waste,

I will find you.  And when I do, the presents your fur ball has been depositing on my grass are going to be redeposited onto your doorstep.

How do you sleep at night, knowing a poor, unsuspecting neighbor might step in your pet's crap and ruin a perfectly adorable pair of flats?  How?

A one-time dropping I could forgive.  I could give you the benefit of the doubt.  "Maybe," I could gander, "he forgot the doggy bag."  The daily sentence of shoveling someone else's pet's poo?  I just can't make peace with that.

I am being 110% honest when I say that this situation troubles me three times as much as the recent break in down the street.

That's how peeved I am.

Resentfully,
The woman who's probably unknowingly delivered you a baked good at some point, with a smile

P.S.  How can you do this to the person in the neighborhood who shares baked goods?!

P.S. P.S.  Would it help if I left a shovel out for you?  Maybe?


Dear Jamie,

You are a wonderful friend in oh, so many ways, but today you proved your true worth.

When I locked and slammed my front door this morning holding your set of keys, instead of my own, my day flashed before my eyes.  It was a terrifying vision:  screaming children, long hours spent waiting for a locksmith at some point, and lots and lots of me rocking in the fetal position.

Thank you for pulling your secret skill set out of the woodwork and helping me break into my house.  I'll never look at a Disney World key card in the same way again.  Nor a bobby pin.  You're a lifesaver.

With deepest appreciation and gratitude,
The friend you rescued today


Dear Southern Comfort Egg Nog,

Thank you for being my prize for successfully breaking and entering my house.  I know I didn't really deserve a prize, but to quote one of the greatest movies of all time:  "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."  You should get that reference, because you're southern.

And you are oh, so tasty.

Fondly,
One who doesn't need much of an excuse to buy egg nog, even when her house is flooding with Halloween candy