Those three dogs charged Cait and Owen again this afternoon. They were getting into her car in my driveway, and the dogs came out of nowhere.
I ran out the front door, screaming and waving my arms, charging them hard. I chased those sonsabitches all the way up to the holes in their fence, through which they returned to their yard. Their owner, who was sitting on his butt watching his giant-screen TV, came to the back door to let them in, and I started yelling at him.
I told him how we are getting charged by these dogs every single day, how my two-year-old grandson gets charged, my eight-year-old son can’t even ride his scooter without getting chased and barked at, how they might not bite, but who knows? I told him how aggressive they are, and pointed out the holes in the fence. Ryan was right behind me, yelling and backing me up. We were a sight, I admit.
The dog owner didn’t apologize, just told me it was on his list of things to do. I begged him to fix it right away. He shrugged and went inside.
I expected nothing and thought about what I would do when it happened again.
When we returned from a dinner out, Decky, Bill and I saw that the dog owner had put up some wire fencing by a couple of the holes. He left at least one or two still unblocked, but we were so happy to see that he had done something, anything.
All we can hope is that tomorrow he’ll cover the other holes, and we won’t ever have to be scared walking out our front door again.
Because, let me tell you, it won’t be pretty. Nobody threatens my babies’ safety – nobody.