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June 04, 2004


We live in a fairly quiet residential neighborhood.

The majority of my neighbors are industrious and hard working. In some ways the neighborhood seems like it has been populated from central casting: We have the family with 4 great kids next door, the mom from down the street that works at the post office, a couple of stay at home moms whose husbands work long hours and a more than a few of other suburban stereotypes and cliché’s. All in all 99.99% fantastic neighbors.

Then there are our Other Neighbors

A few weeks ago Fabulous Babe got a phone call from The Mother. She stated that the equivalent of MN child protective social services had paid them a visit. The Mother then went through the laundry list of complaints that were cited. She admitted that they were all true and that they were now under some sort of double secret probation. Rounding 3rd and headed for home she then wanted to know if we had been the ones to report them.

After staring at the phone in disbelief, Fabulous Babe pointed out that a.) I had been out of town when this was supposedly reported and b.) That with her work schedule of 60+ hours a week and being pregnant she didn’t have enough time to worry about our problems let alone anyone else’s problems. She also pointed out that some of the complaints would have required one of us to actually be inside of their home which neither of us had in over a year and a half. (Logic lost completely on The Mother at the time.)

Since that night The Mother has grilled everyone in the neighborhood whose phone number she had. When no one confessed the Other Neighbors latched on to the ridiculous notion that it was the Racetracks.

The Racetracks are a couple who a.) have formidable work schedules like ours, b.) haven't ever been in the Other Neighbors house to witness some of what was reported and c.) are the most easy going "live and let live" people I currently know. It's that last bit that clinched their persecution since it's always the nicest and most reasonable of people that end up on the short end of these sorts of things.

Mr. Racetrack came home a week or so ago to find a notice from the police on a complaint of excessive dog poop in their backyard. When the cops came back they searched for over an hour, found no poop, and were scratching their heads. When they asked a few questions and heard about what had happened with Child Protective Services the police figured out instantly that petty neighbor politics were at play. The police apologized for wasting the Racetrack's time and left. (Essentially vowing not to return.)

I heard this morning that The Mother was taking credit for calling the poop complaint in on the Racetracks. That's right gentle reader, on the most joyous day of the Racetrack's lives The Mother was gloating over being the "genius" responsible for trying to get them in trouble with a false police report on dog poop.

I wonder if The Mother realizes that if that if CPS investigators begin asking the neighbors questions that by law we're all going to be forced to provide only one thing: The truth.

Posted by Jim at June 4, 2004 08:42 AM