I thought it was a joke. But, no—there were, indeed, four bags of dog poop.
I asked the wife whether she had any idea who could have done this. She shrugged. “Sue?” I didn’t think so. Sue lives down the street. She’s our neighbor and friend. She has a huge dog named Buckner. But I could think of no motivation for her to drop excrement on our property. Then I started thinking about it. A few days ago, some people who lived nearby began walking their dogs for the first time in, seemingly, ever (they keep them in the yard). About three days back, I found a huge pile of steaming shit in front of our neighbor’s driveway. I cleaned it up angrily … certain the new walkers lazily left it there.
Tonight, I developed a theory: Someone on the block thinks our dog Norma is shitting on their yard—and that we’re not cleaning it up. In other words, they blame us for the crap, and the bags were payback. Or warnings. (I briefly also thought, “John Rocker?”—then realized the trip from Macon to here was pretty far). Anyhow, I desperately wanted to solve this, and went up and down the block, asking folks what they knew. I even came up with a conclusion: It had to be this one couple way down the street. They just smelled suspicious.
Anyhow, the wife kept thinking it was Sue She texted her, didn’t hear back … didn’t hear back … didn’t hear back—finally heard back. She asked the wife whether—in the aftermath of the Kentucky-Wisconsin game—I’d left a note on her car mocking the Badgers (her alma mater). I insisted I did not. To which Sue responded, “I thought you did—so I left Buckner’s poop as payback.”
Which leads to the new mystery: Who wrote the note?