My wife hates the neighbor dog.
Tatiana- never call her Tat, or Ana- and when you say her name you better let it roll off of your tongue so that you sound like you’re standing on a corner somewhere in Italy with marble statues of God and Goddesses on every corner because Tatiana hates fake things.
I guess that’s why Tatiana hates that dog much. It’s a designer dog, one of those dogs that are bred with a purebreds from two different breeds to come up with a dog with the desired attributes.
In my wife’s mind, that is as tasteless and tactless as Biscotti that has been baked in Vietnam and shipped to the corner Mini Mart where you can get flavored cappuccino whipped up in a flash from a cart out front with an Italian Flag same on the front.
So last night Tatiana zips up our driveway, I mean she’s coming in hot.
” Franklin!” I hear her screaming from the inside of her car before the engine is even off. ” Franking get the hell out here NOW!”
So of course I get out there and Tatiana is out of her car and looking at the front of her car. ” Fucking dog! That fucking dog got in my way and look at this, look at my baby Franklin!”
Tatiana’s baby was hurt alright, the bumper and her headlight were a twisted mess of blood and metal.
” Damn, Where?”
Tatiana points to the end of the drive where the mailbox is. ” In the ditch. “I hold out my hand and my wife throws her keys at me and as I turn away from her and her baby- her darling Fulvia coupe Tatiana flies into a rage ” Where are you going?”
I walk back up to our garage, punch a button on the Fob and the garage door slides open. I go in and grab a shovel and some gardening gloves and a tarp.
” I’m going to clean up your baby’s mess.”
” It’s a dog Franklin! What the hell is the matter with you? Look at my car- oh and don’t worry. I’m fine. Franklin, it’ just a dog. Leave it. It’s just a dog. Let that low life piece of trash clean up his mutt. It’s just a mongrel you know. A mongrel with a fancy name that he paid to much money for. Pretentious fool.”
I ignore her and start walking towards the road.
Tatiana chases after me, which I do marvel at because Tatiana is short and has always worn heels high enough to give most people nosebleeds. ” I mean it, it’s a mongrel let the city clean it up.”
We are at the ditch and the neighbor dog broken and twisted. At first I thought half of it’s face was gone, but then I realized it was there, it was a pulpy mess but it was still there.
” It’s a mongrel Franklin. Let the city handle it, it’s what we pay our taxes for.”
Ever obiendient, plus I think it’s hot when Tatiana throws her tantrums, I follow her back to the house.
The neighbor dog- other people called her Malaya McLeod who was probably out on her nightly power walk to get her steps in, is dead in a ditch at the end of our driveway and I am sure that the city and their vaious departments will be visiting us soon, like Tatiana said to clean it up.