Can't Stop Loving You

Kaycee screamed out as she slid across the sidewalk leading to her front door. With one shoe left behind on the walk, she tripped headfirst into the azalea bushes. How had she slipped? Had anyone seen? Was it the three apple martinis she'd drunk an hour ago? The questions flooded her mind. The bush's bristly limbs scratched her arms and legs as she pulled herself from its hold. Mortified, she looked around to see if anyone had witnessed her fall. To her relief the neighborhood was as quiet and still as usual. Kaycee stood upright to examine the damage. She ran her fingers across a scratch on her arm and winced at the scraped flesh and curling skin. Licking her finger, she rubbed the tender spot. She looked as though she had been jumping in a pile of leaves; they clung to her hair and clothes. She even had one in her mouth. Spitting it to the ground, she straightened her skirt and looked back to where it had all started. She spotted her Manolo Blahnik stiletto on its side resting next to a shadowy object. "What is that?" she said out loud as she hobbled over to find out. The porch light provided just the right amount of light for her to see-- "Dog crap!" she cried out as the smell of fresh dog feces floated to her nose. Her eyes rolled in disgust when she recognized that the dog next door had done it again! Since she'd moved into the house a month ago, she'd noticed that the dog used her garden to do its business more often than not. The proof was in the little mounds of fly-covered poop scattered on her yard, decorating her sidewalk and, on occasion, appearing on her front steps. The culprit was the black-and-tanYorkshire terrier that she'd spotted trotting around the yard and yipping at everything from bees to birds. Its owner never seemed to keep it contained, although it had a collar, not to mention a fenced backyard.After the first week, Kaycee had decided to put an end to the problem, but whenever she attempted to make contact with her faceless neighbors, they weren't there. She looked at her five-hundred-dollar shoes and sucked her teeth in disgust. She had never worn them until this evening. Most of her life, she had concealed her feelings when it came to things she had no control over. Her MO was to keep the peace. Be professional, pleasant and polite. A lady. But tonight, all that training was getting tossed out the window. She thought about how she could have been seriously injured had the azalea bush not broken her fall. To add insult, her brand-new sandals were ruined. Anger slowly rose from deep within.as if making a point, although no one was around to hear it. She glanced over at the neighbor's house and her mouth fell open in surprise. Through the partially open slats of the blinds at the side window, she could see a faint glow coming from the television set. Finally, someone was home! Gathering her purse and keys while avoiding another step in the poop, Kaycee unlocked her own huge oak door. Her first thought was to try and calm down, but when she turned on the light in the foyer and got a closer look at the heel of her shoe caked in feces she didn't want to play nice, she wanted to get even. Without even stopping to take off her other shoe, Kaycee hobbled into the kitchen, and headed straight for the pantry where she kept her old plastic grocery bags. She carried the bag back out to where the waste lay. Kneeling down and putting her hand in the bag, she picked up the poop. "I got something for you, neighbor!" she said out loud with a mischievous grin. Holding the bag in one hand at arm's length and her shoe in the other, Kaycee marched lopsidedly across the lawn to the house next door. Now they'd know what it felt like to be crapped on--literally. She would hand over the package and demand a resolution before she reported them to the neighborhood association or filed a complaint with the police. SHarrison-Jackson, Lisa is the author of 'Can't Stop Loving You ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373860197 and ISBN 0373860196.