Laura Jean Schneider
Every day that I hang out my laundry that bitch comes over and sinks her teeth into whatever she likes. She tears something off the clothesline with a snap of her lumpy head, drags it out of my yard, her all smiling, then breaks into a run back to wherever she comes from, my pants or shirts or towels flying out behind her.
A small dog, ugly, no collar, been doing this for a month now. I’m about fed up. Maybe someone new moved a trailer onto a plot of twenty acres like my own, must be they don’t believe in tying dogs up or making them mind. It seems to be a cross between a Chow and a Lab, legs too short, like a cartoon, and her tail is one big dreadlock chock-full of burrs and stickers and probably her own filthy shit.
At first I tore down the road after her, but she must have some shortcut, some bypass, because I never see her once she leaves my yard. As if it isn’t bad enough that she steals things, the dog takes a dump in the corner by the rock garden if she sneaks in without me seeing… Read more »