Behind our house lives a very sweet, very old married couple. They must be at least 80 or 85. Every day they shuffle around the neighborhood, walking together for the sake of love and exercise. I’m not sure if they take the same route every morning; I don’t follow them. I just know that every morning they walk by our house at the end of their journey.
When we first moved into the house, I noticed that the Grand Neighbors were milling around my yard a lot. After watching them comb my yard several times via the bird’s eye view of the second story windows, I learned that they were looking for pecans. I went out one day and told them that they were welcome to dig through the leaves in the backyard if they’d like to look for pecans there. They took us up on our offer, and they feel free to meander into our backyard any time they please in search of nuts. (They are something akin to the grandparent equivalent of squirrels, I suppose. It’s a very normal elderly activity, my Mema collects 20 lbs. of Pecans a year)
The reason that I’m telling you all this is so you can understand how close to our lives these people are. I am not shielding you from their names–I truly don’t know them–but I see them on a daily basis.
When we first got Scout we realized that Grandma Neighbor carries around a little baggie of dog treats with her for the neighborhood dogs. (She’s an equal opportunity pet lover, she carries “kitty treats,” too.) In the first weeks after we got Scout, my parents came over for a visit. Upon their arrival, Zack and I were standing outside with Scout. Mom and Dad were piling out of the car, the company I had over also came outside, and there was a regular zoo of energy buzzing around my front door. During all the arrival commotion, Grandpa and Grandma Neighbor walked by. She saw Scout and stopped and preciously fed her a few treats while we all chatted. My dad, being the social creature that he is, had plenty to say to the Grand Neighbors. I realized after we’d been chatting for about 5 minutes that Grandma Neighbor was STILL FEEDING SCOUT TREATS.
Now, we don’t feed Scout treats all that often. She has some milkbones that we feed her occasionally, but that’s about it. We make her work for those milkbones, too. We generally stuff them into her Kong. She seems to learn tricks without needing food motivation, so I haven’t ever purchased TREAT treats (you know, the “dogs go nuts for this stuff that is shaped like a mini-T-bone-steak” kind of treats). So there she was, 3 months old, never seen a treat like that before, and she was going BUCK WILD. Grandma Neighbor stood there and fed her more treats than I could count, throwing them down and watching Scout gobble them up for the whole time we talked.
Dad and I walked back into the house in a daze, not believing that someone would feed a puppy the equivalent of half a bag of treats in one setting. Maybe, we thought, she was just caught up in all the excitement. Maybe Grandma Neighbor didn’t realize how much she was feeding my dog, since surely nobody would consciously feed a dog that many dog treats in one sitting, right? RIGHT?
Months after the initial feeding incident, I became aware that The Grandneighbors come by the house every morning while I’m getting ready for work. Scout hangs out in the backyard for an hour in the mornings. I thought she just barked occasionally (which she does,) until I realized that she was barking at about 7:35 every morning. Finally I pieced it all together. At 7:35, Grandma walks by the house, and Scout starts barking. Not out of her sense of duty to protect us, but rather because she is going NUTSO BEZERK because GRANDMA IS HERE WITH ALL OF THE TREATS OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. I started going to the window to watch this exchange in the mornings. We are at the very end of their walks–a last stop, if you will. Every single morning, Grandma is unloading THE REST of her treats on my dog. THE REST! I know that I am a chronic exaggerator, and I know that you guys aren’t going to believe me when I tell you this, but for 2 weeks in a row, I watched that lady feed my dog at least 2 dozen treats EVERY MORNING.
I considered hanging a sign, but I could never decide on the wording. “Please don’t feed the dog” seemed bland. “If you $@%#in’ feed my dog again, I will hunt you down in your sleep you !@#$% &ity *())-*& ^%$#2!” was a little on the strong side. “When you feed my dog 2 dozen treats each morning, it has the unintended consequences of her a.) vomiting in the house, b.) not eating her own food, c.) getting fat, d.) lacking in nutrition, and e.) teaching her that it is totally okay to go ABSOLUTELY APE SHIT at the fence when strangers are walking by. Please keep your hands and your treats to yourself” Was actually want I wanted to say, but it seemed a bit verbose. Finally one morning, I was leaving the house when they were walking by, and I actually gutted up and did the right thing. I asked grandma to please feed Scout only 1 or 2 treats, because she was throwing up in the house after she ate (THE WHOLE BAG AAAAHHH!) more than that. I felt grown up, bold, and proud of my decision to just talk to Grandma Neighbor about the situation, rather than posting a cowardly sign. I was also proud of myself for not taking away ALL her dog-feeding fun, but instead asking her to please be more observant of the amount of food she’s feeding my dog.
Grandma Neighbor gladly agreed to feed Scout less. “I was wondering if she threw up,” she said, “because she just swallows them whole, and doesn’t chew at all.” Not the point, I thought, but good. At least she was understanding that less is more, and I wanted A LOT, LOT LESS. “Just 1 or 2 is plenty for her,” I said to her, and she nodded in agreement, saying, “No problem.” Then, as I walked away, she threw Scout 8 treats. Perhaps a sign will be necessary after all.
