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I’ve lived in this apartment for almost 6 years. When I first moved in, my downstairs neighbor was a man named Frank. I loved Frank. I felt safe with Frank there. I knew that if anything happened, he was going to be all over that shit. But then Frank fell in love and got married and Misty and her three kids moved in.

They got a black Labrador because Misty wanted a big dog for protection. Can’t really blame her for that. The apartment building next door is filled with all kinds of riff-raff, including some drug dealers in the end apartment. So she got the dog and then forgot about her apparently. The poor dog was outside all day – and being a rambunctious Lab with nothing to do, she started tearing things up. Then she figured out how to get out of the yard. Instead of training the dog and spending time with her, Misty chained her to the fence.

After a few months of that, Misty gave the dog to her mother so the dog would have room to run. Yay for the dog. Except then Misty got another dog. This one was a mix, but about the same size as the Lab. And the same thing happened. No one played with it, no one walked it, they left it outside all the time and then strangely enough, the dog started tearing things up and then figured out how to get out of the yard. So Misty fixed the problem and chained the dog to the fence.  That dog was super sweet. She would get so excited when I came home because I would always stop and pet her or play with her for a minute. So you can imagine that I was just a little annoyed to see her chained up. It got to the point that the poor thing just laid there when I pulled into the driveway. She didn’t bark, she didn’t get up, she never even looked up. That fucking chain drained the life out of her. And then the dog disappeared. Misty said someone stole it. YAY!

All was peaceful until last week. That was when I heard a dog barking and couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Turns out, it was downstairs. Misty got …  wait for it …

THIS

A Newfoundland. Except hers isn’t this big yet. She told me he was only 6 weeks old, which made me lose my mind. I told her 6 weeks was too young, but she said the breeder told her it was fine. OF COURSE the breeder said it was okay, she wants the money and doesn’t want to be bothered with puppy shit for another 3 weeks. Misty told me she wants it as a therapy dog for her youngest, who has seizures and some other problems. What? First, therapy dogs require training – training she has already proven she won’t do herself and that she probably can’t afford. Second, for a therapy dog to do its job, it has to be allowed into the school where her son is for 8 hours a day.

So now she has YET ANOTHER big dog that she has no interest in training and won’t be able to control in another 4 months. I saw the puppy, he’s adorable, but he looks like he’s already 4 months old. This dog is going to be HUGE – and they can weigh up to 150 lbs. Which will be a lot of dog food. Which will mean a ton of dog shit.

And I can already see that dog chained up even though it hasn’t happened yet and I am really pissed off. I know it’s none of my business. I know I shouldn’t care. But every time I hear that puppy bark I want to go downstairs and smack her.

So I’m moving. It’s past time for that. The neighborhood is slowly going downhill, I’m tired of the drug dealer neighbors in the apartments and I’m tired of listening to Misty yell at her kids and watching her ignore her pets.

If anyone has a truck, hit me up.

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