I’m the author of Soothing The Skittish Cat. The cat in that story passed away at eighteen years old, not nearly as skittish as she was when I met her. One day, our downstairs neighbor knocks on our door, and my wife answers.

Neighbor: “Hey, is your wife home?”

Wife: “Yeah, what’s up?”

Neighbor: “My cat’s limping and he won’t let me near him, so I think he’s hurt. He likes her. Do you think she’d come take a look?”

I go downstairs and the cat limps right up to me. I immediately notice what looks like a bite mark on his hind leg.

Me: “Ah, okay. You need to get him to the vet. It looks like something bit him and it’s infected.”

I scoop the cat up into my arms and deposit him into the carrier the neighbor has, the cat purring the entire time.

Neighbor: “Thank you. I knew you could get him to behave.”

Me: “You’re welcome but… why me? He is your cat. Sure, he likes me, but…”

Neighbor: “Oh, he only lets you pick him up. Sort of like how [Neighbor #2]’s dog only lets you walk up to her porch without barking his head off. I’ve lived here for ten years and he still barks at me. You moved in last year and he’ll walk right up to you.”

Wife: “And my mom’s dog will literally only listen to you. You literally trained her because she wouldn’t listen to Mom at first. And that horse we saw at the state fair that apparently doesn’t let people touch him but wouldn’t let you stop scratching him, then he put his head on your shoulder and went to sleep — even the owner was amazed.”

Neighbor: *To my wife* “I’m pretty sure your wife is a witch.”

Wife: “She has a lot of familiars. You should have seen [Skittish Cat] when she first moved in with me; she got right in [My Name]’s lap on day one.”

The cat was fine after a round of antibiotics but I had to coax him out of the carrier when the neighbor brought him home. Apparently, I’ve been designated the friendly neighborhood witch!

Related:
Soothing The Skittish Cat

I catch someone stealing a lawn mower from my neighbour’s garden. By the time I get downstairs, the guys have run off and to their van parked around the corner.

I run next door.

Me: “[Neighbour], someone’s stolen your lawnmower!”

Neighbour: “What?! They got into the garage?”

Me: “No, I saw them take it from your garden.”

Neighbour: *Suddenly calm* “Oh, that one.”

Me: “I managed to get part of their licence plate. Sorry, they were too fast.”

Neighbour: “Oh, don’t worry yourself. Thanks for keeping an eye out.”

Me: “You don’t seem that bothered.”

Neighbour: “Well, I just bought myself a new one. The one they stole barely runs and has a fuel leak. The only part of it worth anything was the sticker that my grandkids ‘decorated’ it with. I’ll report it, but they probably did me a favour.”

He reported it to the police and they came round to see me after a few days. They pulled over a van for no tax and the lawnmower was in the back. The thieves said they “found it,” but with my description, they were able to be charged.

[Neighbour] got a bit of an insurance payout, as the thieves damaged it even more when stealing it. Last I heard, [Neighbour] was going to buy his grandkids a toy lawn mower for when they visited, which seemed very fitting.

Many years ago, I purchased a home in a nice neighborhood. The backyard was fenced all the way around with a six-foot-high wooden privacy fence. The neighbor behind me had an in-ground pool. Local regulations called for his pool to be completely enclosed by a fence. He had fencing on the sides and front and used my fence back as his fence back. Fair enough.

After several years, my fence started falling apart. Not having grown up in a fenced-in yard, I decided to take it down and not replace it. Knowing this would affect my neighbor, I wanted to let him know. I walked around the block and rang the doorbell. He answered the door.

Me: “Hi, I’m your neighbor from behind you. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be taking my fence down in a few weeks and I won’t be replacing it.”

Neighbor: “You can’t do that. My pool needs to be enclosed. I need a fence along the back.”

Me: “I understand that. That’s why I’m giving you some advance notice so you can make whatever arrangements you need to make.”

Neighbor: “No, I need you to maintain a fence along the back edge.”

Me: “I’m sorry. I don’t have a pool and have no legal requirement to maintain a fence at all.”

Neighbor: “Well, then, I’ll just put a chain-link fence around the pool. You’ll be without a privacy fence.”

Me: “You do what you want. My fence is coming down and I’m not replacing it. Have a nice day.”

I returned home, thinking that was the end of it. An hour later, my doorbell rang. I answered the door to find my neighbor standing there.

Neighbor: “I was thinking about it. My fence is getting old, too. I’ll replace the whole thing around my pool, including the back, and we can split the cost.”

Me: “No. No, that’s not going to happen.”

He wanted to replace his entire fence and have me pay for half of it. Nice try, dude.

We live in a house across the street from an old brick building that has been converted into four apartments. It was empty when we moved in but was soon renovated and filled with new tenants. Most of them have been nice and respectful of the quiet neighborhood… except for one person: a young woman in her twenties. She moved in with a man about her age, and like every other household on the street, she had a dog.

It’s a town ordinance (and common courtesy) to clean up after your dog, but I soon began noticing brown patches on our neighbors’ grass and clumps of dog poop on ours.

I had a hunch that it was the couple with the dog, but I couldn’t prove it… until one day. Our house is situated on a slight hill from the street, whereas the apartment building is right on the street, so from our windows, we can see very well everyone coming and going. While walking past a window one day, some movement caught my eye, and I saw the woman leaving the apartment with her dog on a leash. She dragged him across the sidewalk, across the street, and straight to our front yard.

Aha! Caught in the act!

I immediately ran to the front door to confront her. She tried to tell me that “she’d clean it up,” but I pointed out she hadn’t ever before, and I saw her deliberately lead the dog over to my yard!

Suffice to say, we haven’t had a problem with dog poop again, and thankfully, the couple moved out within a year.

I’m sitting at home watching TV when I hear sirens approaching, and it sounds like they’ve stopped quite close to my house. Curious, I head outside and see fire engines stopped at the house two doors down. My next-door neighbor has also headed outside to look.

Me: “What happened?”

Neighbor: “Oh, the people in that house, they’re idiots! Do you know what they put in the backyard? A Gilligan hut!”

Me: “Gilligan hut?”

Neighbor: “A straw-roofed hut, like on Gilligan’s Island! And do you know what else they put in the backyard?”

Me: “What?”

Neighbor: “A fire pit! How did they think that was gonna go?”

The fire brigade’s presence certainly provided enough of a clue as to how it went.