For almost a year, my feud with the woman next door kept getting uglier. Then one morning, she appeared at my door, shaking with rage, and suddenly I wasn't the only one demanding answers.
My name is Christine, and my neighbor Denise and I have been feuding for almost a year now, ever since I complained to the HOA about her dog digging up my flower beds three separate times.
Before that, we had never been friends, but we had been civil.
We waved when we collected the mail.
We exchanged polite comments about the weather.
Once, when a delivery driver left one of her packages on my porch by mistake, I carried it over and handed it to her.
Then her dog discovered my flower beds.
The first time, I assumed it was an accident.
I came home from work and found several petunias ripped from the soil.
Dirt covered the walkway. There were paw prints across the mulch.
I knocked on Denise's door.
"Hey, I think your dog got into my flower bed."
She glanced toward my yard and shrugged.
"He's a dog, Christine. Dogs dig."
I expected an apology.
Instead, she closed the conversation as if I had complained about the wind.
I cleaned up the mess myself.
The second time, I was less patient.
The third time, I found nearly an entire section of flowers destroyed.
I had spent several weekends working on that garden.
It was one of the few things around the house that I genuinely enjoyed fussing over.
So I contacted the HOA.
I did not demand that Denise be fined.
I did not ask for some dramatic punishment.
I only wanted someone to remind her that her dog needed to stay out of other people's yards.
Apparently, that was enough to turn me cafar into her enemy.
A few days later, Denise caught me outside.
"You complained about me?"
"I complained about your dog destroying my flowers."
"You could've talked to me."
"I did. Twice."
Her mouth tightened.
"You didn't have to involve the HOA."
"I wouldn't have if the problem had stopped."
She stared at me for several seconds before walking back into her house.
After that, things changed.
She never admitted to anything, but after that, small things kept happening.
My trash cans "accidentally" tipped over every collection day.
My garden hose disappeared for a week, and when it reappeared, it was cut in half.
Nothing I could ever actually prove.
The trash cans were especially irritating.
Every Thursday morning, I would drag them to the curb before leaving for work. By the time I returned, at least one would be on its side.
Sometimes garbage spilled into the street.
Sometimes the lid disappeared under a parked car.
Once, I found coffee grounds scattered across my driveway.
I started securing the bags more carefully.
It made no difference.
Then my garden hose vanished.
I searched the garage twice because I thought I had misplaced it. I checked behind the shed. I even wondered whether I had loaned it to someone and forgotten.
A week later, it appeared beside my outdoor faucet.
It had been cut cleanly in half.
