The Mysterious Mystery

Well it's Halloween so that makes me actually kind of happy to report that we have a very mysterious mystery that is mystifying us here at the Yates Estates.

And when I say we,  I am being a touch expansive as Opie is only moderately interested in the aforementioned mystery and refuses to engage in long texting discussions of it while he's at work.

But I digress...

Here's what's going on:

Two weeks ago Opie and I came home from visiting our family in Illinois and realized that we had been booed. This sounds awful but is actually really fun.

Someone left us a cute Halloween bag of treats anonymously with the instructions to pass it forward in a manner of a secret Santa only with a Halloween theme. Apparently this is been going on in office buildings and neighborhoods for years and I had no idea!! (You can read all about it here).

Anyway like I said, really fun! And it was easy to decide who I was going to boo:

1. The annoying little girl next door who, although she is incredibly annoying, would get a real charge out of the booing and it's always fun to make little kids happy.

2. The new neighbors across the street so they'd think the neighborhood is fun and welcoming.

So I got two cute treat bags, filled them up, and snuck over to the respective houses, hanging the bags in plain sight. Then I retreated to the safety of my living room, got out the good old binoculars, and waited for everyone to discover the booing.

The little girl found hers first and responded with an appropriate amount of not at all annoying good cheer.

The other neighbors left theirs hanging outside.

For days.

Actually, it's been on their mailbox for TWO WEEKS.

How can they possibly KEEP

MISSING this bag????

"This is a disaster!" I told Opie after the first few days had passed. "What if they're out of town? What if instead of welcoming them to the neighborhood, I just alerted any thieves in the vicinity that they're not home? What if they get robbed?"

"Maybe you should just sneak across the street and get it back." he suggested.

Unfortunately , I'm no lawyer but I watch A LOT of Judge Judy, and that's kind of the same thing. So I know that, legally, once a gift has been given it becomes the property of the giftee not the gifter. So, taking the bag back now would be stealing.

Besides that, my life is really weird. And I just know that if I sneak over there to retrieve said bag, The neighbors will, no doubt, open the door the second I put my hand on it and demand to know what I'm doing. At which point I will panic,  yell profanities, and flee back across the street.

Which doesn't exactly scream welcome to the neighborhood.

It would be better, I decided, to just be grateful that the booing  is anonymous and hope that the neighbors don't get robbed or, failing that, hope they never figure out I was the one Who inadvertently set them up.

And then the plot thickened!

Because a few days ago I saw a huge Salvation Army donation truck pull up in front of their house... and those trucks only come when called... and it stayed there a significant amount of time...I couldn't see the front door because the huge truck was in the way, but it was pretty obvious that someone is home over there.

And they still didn't pick up the bag!!!

"Now, this is really weird!" I yelled at Opie. "Why in the world wouldn't they pick up the bag? Are they some kind of ultra-religious anti-Halloween fanatics? Do they think people in the neighborhood just come by and add additional decorations to the house? What is going on?!"

At which point Opie, who I can usually count on to be the calming voice of reason in these situations, let me down. "Maybe it was a fake truck." he said. "Maybe the people in the Salvation Army truck were there to rob them."

The problem with Opie's reaction is that it just allowed me to fully unleash my inner crazy. "What if they killed them? What if the neighbors are in there DEAD? What if they've been murdered and when the police finally find them they'll see the bag on the front porch and decide the murderers left it there like some weird satanic message?"

"What are you talking about?" He demanded.

But it was too late to stop me. "And then they'll fingerprint the bag, find out I left it there and I'll go to PRISON FOR A CRIME I DIDN'T COMMIT!"

"That's not going to happen."

"You better hope not!" I shouted. "Because I'm not going to live long in prison. I'll make a joke at the wrong time or use sarcasm on the wrong person and BAM! I'll get shanked in the prison laundry!"

"How did we get from Halloween treats to you dying in prison?"

"You started it!" I told him loftily.

And now to the real dilemma: do I go over and retrieve the bag of treats which are, no doubt, melted and stale after 2 weeks on the porch? Do I call the police and suggest they take a look-see at the house in case it's been robbed and the occupants murdered? Or do I continue to sit in the living room with my binoculars like some sad stalker freak show, trying to get a good look in the neighbors' windows?

And why won't they  just take the damn bag inside?

Silent Sunday

Obedience Training -- The Week of Peek Part 2

This post is from my early and somewhat futile attempts to train Peek-A-Boo.

 

 

 

Peek at about 4 months old, ostensibly learning to "come when called." 

 

 

 

So I've been trying to train the ridiculous animal to come when called. This is not an easy task considering the ridiculous animal thinks he is in charge of the world, much less the strange woman screaming instructions at him.
 

Unfortunately, he proved his point early this morning.

As most of you know, my training methods are pretty simple: Bribe the dog with food.

We have it all worked out. I order him onto his little chair in the kitchen, hide a treat behind my back, yell COME HERE! Show him the food and he launches himself at me like a treat-seeking missile.

 

Early this morning, however, he decided to put a different spin on things. Apparently, I didn’t close the bedroom door all the way when we went to bed last night; so around 4:00 AM he woke up, bored, and decided to meander about the house. He wandered into the kitchen, saw the chair, and decided this would be the perfect time to reinforce the whole “come when called” business. He hopped up onto the chair and began barking his fool head off. Loosely translated, I think he was saying “Come here and give me a treat! A treat! A treat! Come here and give me a treat!”

 

I, understandably, was a bit discombobulated at the sudden outcry and pretty much stumbled into the kitchen, sure there was a burglar or some other reason for the barking explosion.

 

And, still on his chair, he stood up on his hind legs and did the treat dance.

My reply was so obscene that I won’t be including it here.

So, I returned to bed and the dog, clearly feeling misunderstood, began to sing a little treat song…"I'm a dog who needs to eat!  Come on, food lady, give me a treat!"

 

When that didn't work, he decided to mix things up a little by alternating the barking song with a little howling.  "TTTTRRRREEEEAAATTT!"  he howled.  "I need a tttttrrrreeeeaaattttt before I ddddiiiieeee!"  Then there was the whining/howl/barking como...and on and on and on.

 

Thus began the contest of wills….who could hold out longer? Who would give in first?

All I can say is, the dog’s stamina is amazing and I can now pinpoint the exact moment I lost total control of my own life.