Should've pretended I wasn't home

This morning I was assessing the kids, to determine if I'd keep them home another day when the doorbell rang.

I hesitated to answer, as I was in my pjs.  But, usually, your doorbell doesn't ring at 7:10 a.m. because someone is stopping by for a casual chat.  My mind runs through possibilities, including that it might be Mr W back because he forgot something, as I curse the fact that all I can see is a blur through the doorway because I wasn't wearing my glasses.  Or a bra, for that matter. (Which is highly unusual, as the ta's are usually strapped down--besides being a vestige of my nursing days I can't let go of, once you've done battle with a toddler running at you full bore, you learn some natural resources should always be protected.  Mr W begs to differ, but then again, it's good to hear him beg once in while.)

Anyway, there I was, mentally wrestling opening the door, when I decided I am an adult, let's see what this is all about.  The dogs were inside with me, I knew they'd push to the screen and provide interference if need be. 

Those wagging tails are quite a deterrent.

There was a large African-American lady in my doorway, in exercise gear.  Off in my driveway were two more similarly attired ladies.  "Do you have a dog?  There's a big black dog running around."

"Yes, I have a black dog, but she's right here,"  I said.  I gestured to Shadow, who was right in front of me, forgetting the lady couldn't see me through the security screen door.  (I never open that until I know what's up on the other side.)

"Well, was that dog in the yard a minute ago?  Because we were walking along the sidewalk behind the houses here"  (there is a regular through street behind our house) "and that dog nearly came over the fence at us."

I smiled.  Shadow is really nosy.  She likes to jump up, place her paws on the top of the fence, and look over.  I am probably tempting fate by saying this, but she has never, ever, in the three years we've had her, gotten over the fence.  She just looks.  I know I didn't hear her barking this morning, so she was probably up to her usual nosy ways.

"She does that.  She just looks--she's always looking into our neighbor's yards..."  I let my voice trail, not really wanting to explain anymore.   I didn't get the chance, anyway.

"She gets very close to coming over.  One little push and she will be over that fence."  She was giving me a little attitude now, so I let her say her piece.

I tend to lean towards the "don't argue with a drunk" school of thinking.  Not that she was drunk, but you get the idea.  I figured the sooner she spewed, the sooner I could get back to the morning kid business, a bra, and my glasses.

"We called the police..." 

Are you kidding me?  First of all, I stifled a giggle, for Mr W's sake.  Secondly, come on.  I know of all the stupid calls a policeman has to take, the "barking dog" call would probably be on the same level as the "potentially dangerous dog" call.  Bottom of the list. (Remo can attest to this, I am sure.)  If any of the boys in our stretched-thin Sheriff's office come to visit me regarding this, if they come at all, it won't be until nearly noon.  Tomorrow.

Sigh.  What could I have said at this point?  They were all in on it then, gesticulating and going on about how Shadow could very easily clear the fence, and come after anyone.  "Her legs were completely over." "We just wanted to let you know."

Okay, I think we're done here.

They were still talking as I murmured something soothing, like "well, thank you" as I shut the door.  I really wanted to tell them to fuck off, but Ben and Ryan were watching the exchange, so I chose to behave myself.

Of course, I could've just set my petite 48-lb trained killah on them in the driveway.

Because no one should knock on my door that early for a non-emergency without coffee and a bagel.