When neighbors are bad

I love my job.  I love my cats.  I love my dogs.

I can empathize.

I don’t love the neighbors who curse at their young children so loudly that our good neighbor down the road — and I — can hear every  *F* word thrown at them.

I don’t love the neighbors who threaten to kill my dog if he comes into their yard again, while the chickens our dog supposedly killed are running around outside their gate where any coyote, fox, or raccoon have access to free meal delivery.

I don’t love the neighbors who complain about everyone else’s dog while letting their kids toddle around in the street with their dog.  

I don’t love the neighbors who lie to animal control about a good neighbor.  They don’t like his puppies playing with their dog on the street.  From what I was told (but it’s only hearsay) they enticed the good neighbor’s puppies into their yard yesterday so that animal control could come and pick them up tomorrow.  They even reinforced their fence — the one their dog and chickens routinely got out of — just so the puppies couldn’t leave.

Yes, these are the same people who called emergency services for help last year when one of their kids managed to toddle down a dirt road that even I wouldn’t want to travel.  https://rantingalong.blog/2019/12/09/seriously/

You’d think that the sheriff’s office and animal control would share information.

In the meantime, a boy who looks forward to seeing three puppies when he visits his dad is going to be heartbroken.

 I asked the universe, “Why does the scum of humanity always rise to the top?”

The answer?  “So they can shoot themselves in the foot.”

Do I dare wonder why, if that’s the case, so many corrupt career politicians seem to make so much money in office, and have the best medical care until they day they die?

A professor whose courses I loved to take in college said it best:  Law and justice have nothing to do with one another.

I’m presently hoping that the universe will prove him wrong.