My Neighbor's Bathtub

by Seth Wieck

Katie already owned a house when we got married, which was great for me, because I knew nothing about real estate. Well, I knew that you were supposed to own real estate because it's a smart investment. You know, appreciation and all that. However, the act of buying land was a scary proposition for me. That would lock me in to making monthly payments to the man and that would limit me from wandering around the world and experiencing different cultures. Not that I was doing that anyway, but at least I could.

So when we got married, her obligation also became my obligation. It's actually pretty exciting, owning your own house, and I would recommend you do it sooner, rather than later. All sorts of projects pop up. I learned how to hang and wire ceiling fans before I even moved in. Then there were light fixtures and switches, and then once spring rolled around I started working on the yard. I'm sure, now that I've worked on my own yard, that man was meant to cultivate things. I have spent many evenings just standing in my yard looking at the grass.

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With the purchase of a house also comes new relationships with the neighbors. Neighbors are interesting, because they are some of the few relationships in your life that you don't choose. Kind of like co-workers, but at least with co-workers you share common goals: projects, meetings, dogging the boss and Christmas parties. You don't share much with your neighbors except a fence that separates your stuff from their stuff, and the occasional tool.

The neighbors to the south are closest to our age, so we have something in common. It turns out that I went to high school with the husband. He used to be a sprinter on the track team, but that was 40 lbs. earlier, and now he has an amazing tobacco habit that occupies one entire cheek morning, noon, and night. His lips are cracked from the constant stretch and spit, and the cracks are stained brown from the seepage. He's very handy but I get the feeling that he's a little bit compulsive, and a terrible time manager. He has one of those old bathtubs with the legs sitting in his driveway. He patched it with some putty, and then primed it for a repaint, but that's as far as the project ever got. The bathtub has been sitting there since I moved in about a year and a half ago, and it has slowly filled with newspapers that never get read.

Speaking of projects that have gone unfinished, the fence in our backyard has been in disrepair for a long time now. Our neighbors to the south and I talked over that fence one day last summer, while I was looking at my grass, about setting aside a weekend to get the fence fixed. We picked a date and sketched out a plan for raising the new fence. He caught me the week we were to build the fence and said that he had come down with a bad case of shingles and that he wouldn't be able to work on the fence. I said, "Ah, don't worry about it. We'll take care of it as soon as you get better." I've never had shingles, but it sounds like a terrible disease where basically your nerve endings feel like they're on fire. Anyway, the fence still isn't done.

Let me explain the state of disrepair our shared fence is in, because it happens to be symbolic of the state of disrepair our neighborly relationship is in with the southerly next-doors. Said fence isn't a normal picket fence. Rather, it's comprised of posts, and then slats that are tacked on horizontally, one on either side of the post, all the way around the yard. Small dogs can fit their heads through it, or if they really try then they can get their whole body through. We have small dogs, they also became my obligation when I got married, however, they never try to get through the fence. Occasionally, they'll sneak out the front gate and mark the neighborhood cars, but they don't get into other peoples' yards. Our neighbors also have smallish dogs. They're some version of a Russell Terrier, but with a little more mean built in. If they're left outside overnight they'll bark at everything non-stop. And by non-stop, I mean they take turns breathing so the other one can bark in its place. I think they hear the echo of their own bark and think it's the reply of another dog, and so they'll get more and more vicious all night long. I've laid awake for hours at night sometimes trying to discern if there is any language to the bark. Are there different kinds of barks that can be grouped into categories such as greetings, or humor? Mostly they all sound like death.

One morning I was in my office reading and the neighbor dogs were snarling at everything as usual. I tuned it out and continued my reading. After a while I thought the barks were turning into screams, like the screams of a woman. These were different kinds of barks than I had heard those dogs make before which is originally what got my attention. Then I realized that those were the screams of my wife.

Upon this realization, I leaped from my chair and ran out the back to see one of our dog's ears hanging off, and my wife holding her own arm with blood running through her fingers. "They bit me," she said as she walked hurriedly through the door. I took her in and got her bandaged up, then we took Popcorn to the vet. Katie was much more concerned with Popcorn's injuries than her own, and I of course was livid that something, anything in all of creation, would put my wife in danger. We took Katie to the doctor, and the doctor called Animal Control.

Throughout this whole ordeal I played through a spectrum of lashings that I would give my neighbors as soon as we got home; from physical lashings to curse-filled tirades that mostly concluded with me killing their dogs. When we got home from the emergency room I stood in our backyard with a baseball bat and taunted their dogs to come over. They didn't take the bait. This wasn't the most creative way I had imagined killing the dogs, believe me I had months of nightlong bark sessions to plan sadistic things, but this one sure would have felt the best. By the time the neighbors got home, I had decided to put my baseball bat back under our bed, and deal with our neighbors peaceably. It's surprising how much it benefits your peace of mind knowing that your neighbors are on your side.

By law Animal Control had to come over and at least check out the dogs. Of course, their dogs came through the fence and chased the Animal Control lady which got them sent to the pound. Our neighbors were given a ticket for not keeping their dogs under control. They came over and apologized, and said that they would get rid of their dogs. They also told us that their dogs had bitten several of their guests previously, so we all agreed that the dogs should not come back. Katie, wonderful woman, even went to court with them later and convinced the judge to drop the charges.

Well, after an 11-day observation period, the dogs were back. They're still there, but now they're in a cage. And our neighbors don't stop to shoot the breeze and catch-up like they used to. To me it seems like they're being sheepish about the whole dog situation because they didn't stick to their word. I don't know. We enjoy their company. I'm willing to bet if we got that fence fixed, we all could be friends again, but judging by that bathtub I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon.