Love Thy Neighbor AND Her Dog


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Dr. mOe Anderson is a writer, dentist, humorist, and grandmother with a quick wit and passion for life. Read her latest blog on love thy neighbor (and her dog) for a well deserved chuckle. Follow Dr. mOe on Twitter @drmoeanderson and visit her website

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Love Thy Neighbor AND Her Dog

  1. 1. So I have a problem with my neighbor. She's a lovely person: friendly, takes care of her yard, no noisy parties, and she even keeps an eye on my place when I travel. I've met her family, sipped wine on her sofa, and debated politics with her. I consider her a friend. We just have one small problem. One, small, furry problem. She adopted a dog a few months ago and she adores her little puppy. I understand. I have never owned a dog because of a traumatic childhood experience. It wasn't bad enough to warrant counseling but I haven't forgotten it. However, I have been around dogs all my life. My oldest son has a dog named Onyx. He is my granddog. I buy Onyx doggie things for Christmas and allow him in the house when they visit. As Onyx is the size of a small pony and I am slightly anal about my housekeeping, this is a major concession for me. But that's as far as it goes. I pat Onyx once on the back when they arrive. That's my equivalent of a canine handshake. After that, I simply make sure he's comfortable, but we don't interact. Onyx is okay with this arrangement and so am I. I believe my neighbor's dog understands our relationship but she does not. She is determined to make me BFF's with her puppy. I have let him in the house and rubbed his pretty, white fur. That's all I got y'all. Today, I saw her outside with another neighbor and when I walked over she said, "mOe hates dogs." Really? I do not hate dogs like I do not hate trees. Trees are lovely. They provide shade for people and shelter for birds. They give us oxygen. I just don't want one in my house. If it was extremely cold and I saw a tree was shivering, I would allow it inside out of compassion. But as soon as the sun returned from vacation, well...Why isn't there another word for this feeling? It's not hate. I have raised two children. They are awesome men. I love my grandkids beyond measure. Yet, at 51 years-old, I do not want a baby. Does that mean I hate kids? No, it means I experienced some childhood trauma. Those boys terrorized me. But I still love them and I hug them and pat them on the back whenever they visit. Then, I make sure they are comfortable while they eat all my food and text their friends. Ahhhh, there's the solution. I need to get my neighbor's dog a phone! Copyright 2014 by Monica F. Anderson. All Rights Reserved. Twitter/@drmoeanderson