This is my neighbor’s [damn] dog. She is the mother of 2 other [damn] dogs that live there as well. Normally, I like dogs. I grew up with two different dogs. Went so far as to own a dog, albeit for an extremely short period of time, because it, too, was a pain in the arse.

My son, who’s 3, thinks this [damn] dog is his dog. I assure him it is NOT his [damn] dog, and am quite thankful for that fact.

Usually, the [damn] dogs live in the neighbor’s house, but when she lets them out, she does not watch them, does not play with them, does not care who is affected by these [damn] dogs. She opens the door, let’s them out…30 minutes later, opens the door and let’s them back in.

Inevitably, those 30 glorious minutes of [damn] doggie freedom (though I assume there are several throughout the day, but can’t prove it), occur just about the time we get home from work and are attempting to enjoy a few minutes of family fun time in the yard.

Unfortunately, it generally amounts to 30 minutes of incessant barking through the chain link fence by this unmanaged, untrained, uncouth [damn] dog!