I have a fairly decent reputation in my neighborhood, which means I am not labeled a stuper (short for an alarmingly stupid person). That is, until recently.
I often walk/run, usually by myself, sometimes with Husband and other times with a dog or two, who are always on the leash (Husband is let off the leash now and then). Neighbors, gardeners and small children cheerfully wave to me, especially one kindly, elderly gent with amazing copper hued hair. He proudly sits behind his Crown Victoria, flashes a bright smile my way and acts delighted that I crossed his path. That is again, until recently.
Here’s why I’ve become the subject of ridicule, disdain and possibly a police investigation. I present Exhibit A:
Her name is Cali. Her stuper owners purchased her last December as a Christmas gift for their children. Cali escapes from her yard on the regular. And follows me or anyone who happens to stroll past her home. Her yard is surrounded by a perimeter, three rail fence, but Cali easily slips through. It’s, as you may imagine, and this pun is very much intended, a no-brainer. Sometimes, Cali’ll take great pains to wipe her slobbery mouth all over my sweat pants or worse, my bare legs should I dare wear shorts, as she hops around me while I attempt to exercise.
Once Cali abandoned me to chase an elderly woman walking her equally senior, leashed, and very annoyed basset hound, who by the way, looked more angry than sad. I grabbed Cali by the collar, opened the gate of her home, and
thrust shoved gently pushed her inside.
In the beginning of these encounters, I thought, “How cute!” After the twelfth time of being stalked and used as a canine napkin, I took Cali to her front door. Her owners did not say a word. Please note, my neighborhood has an annual homeowners’ meeting. I’ve attended the last four. It always starts at 9 am and ends at 10 am. A few stragglers arrive a bit late, maybe by an embarrassing fifteen minutes. But Cali’s owner always arrives around 9:55 am and is utterly astonished that the meeting ends right about then. Yes, she is a blond, but her husband is a brunette and is her equal in every way, however this is not a tale about hair color, natural or dyed.
Cali became a fixture on my walks, always hopping around me and unflinchingly trotting out in the middle of the road every time a vehicle approached. This was why instead of cheery waves by my neighbors, I started to receive dirty looks. My elderly, friendly, copper haired gent, holds down his horn as he drives by now, once causing me to jump so high, my head nearly banged against the branch of a sturdy oak tree directly above. Then the kindly gent gave me the finger and a nasty snarl. These people assume the naughty and irrepressible Cali is my mutt.
Finally, a few weeks ago, Cali’s stuper owners, tired of so many neighborly visits, reinforced their fence with chicken wire so Cali could no longer slip through. They live on five acres, so as you may imagine, such reinforcement was not cheap. But stupidity is not fought off so easily, my friend. Cali is still on the loose. I present Exhibit B:
Yes, this is a photo of Cali’s front gates, wide open, after the fencing fortification. How else could Cali escape and annoy the neighbors?
And Exhibit C:
Regarding this last exhibit, I can’t imagine how Cali’s owners dented this fence sideways, as it’s usually shut, but stupidity is funny that way.
Today, as I walked, I was surprised to see someone leading a dog at Cali’s front gate. The dog was Cali, barely recognizable on the leash. I realized the weary woman holding the leash was not Cali’s owner, but a neighbor attempting to return the happy wanderer.
Stuper spelled backward is moron.