Okay, I can tell you this story now because my neighbors are now home.
I will explain.
J&R had to leave town unexpectedly four days ago for a family emergency. They trusted me enough to leave me the keys to their home to care for their Rough Sheltie. This dog, Bailey, is half the size of Lassie. Bailey was never fixed so as a result, even if he is dehydrated will urinate a lot. He practically "owns" a few miles of territory judging by how often he feels the need to mark.
J&R also have a very fat looking fish and several aquatic snails that needed to be fed twice daily. I don't mind doing this because J&R are excellent neighbors who we trust with our home as well. We've traded tools for gardening and returned them in good shape, fought the township together, etc.
Bailey tends to freak as soon as one sneaks toward the door, walks near the door or even straight up says "Dude, see ya later!" He will become a dog one hundred times his size, pummeling the door and barking like his fucking tail is on fire.
The second day I'm in the house, I let him out and he won't go more than 10 feet if you don't come out and yell for him to take a leak and a shit. Then he must first run amok, barking insanely, squeeze a few streams here and there, tear up the grass in the opposite direction of where he landed his marks and tear off into a field. If he jets 40 feet and you are not with him, he comes back. At this point, I must command him to eat. I learned that he will not eat unless you are in the kitchen, the light has to be on. He will take two bites and look at you. He will growl but not angrily. It's the way he "talks". You must tell him to eat again. It's quite tiring and honestly, annoying as hell.
Anyway, I'm sure I have done everything but lo! I must bring in the mail. I stupidly leave the fucking keys on the table. I open the house door and leave it open. I go for the mailbox on the outside of the screen door and here comes Bailey ready to freak the fuck out because he's needy, completely insane or both! Both, really.
BAM!
The main door closes. No big deal right?? Wrong. The fucking door locks automatically!! Oh.My.God! The fucking keys are inside!! Okay. OKAY?!?!?
I forgot to mention I had a fever while this was happening. I immediately start to cry. I go back to my house and call Terry and tell him what has happened. As I am talking/crying/babbling/slobbering I see a suspicious man walking from a vehicle and disappearing across the street near another neighbor's house. Now, we've had skeezahs trying to scheme on us nice folk and coming door to door before for fradulent "unfortunate circumstances" as well as criminal characters using our street as convenient hideaway while on the run from the po (last time was right when I brought my son out to the bus so I'm on edge). I'm delirious with fever too so I call 911. I give the description and in 3 minutes flat (no joke), there's three cops on my street. Insane. Anyway, turns out the guy is visiting a friend. No big deal and I decompress slightly.
As the cops get ready to leave, I run out of the house, asking one of them to get into my neighbor's home. The cop smirks as I tell him the story and proceeds to try every window in J&R's house. Nothing works. He asks if I want him to break the door down (guess things are slow today?). He looks in one window and goes "Aw, I see a fish!" Dork. Anyway, I tell him to never mind, I will call my neighbors and try to get a locksmith.
I call J&R and they call the locksmith and charge it to themselves. The locksmith comes and it's now sleeting and as he is trying to pick the lock, Bailey is slamming himself into the door, barking hysterically and honestly, I really wanted to fucking taze his ass. I'm shivering, sick and this locksmith is swearing under his breath. He tells me the lock is old, and he is going to have to drill it and replace the mechanism. As he's drilling, the dog is still freaking the fuck out, throwing his little body against the door, barking like little hysterical dogs do. The drill breaks and the locksmith yells "FUUUUUUUCK!" and stomps his foot, simultaneously throwing off his raincoat. "WHAT A FUCKING WAY TO START THE DAY! AM I RIIIIIGHT?!!?!?" he bellows to the spitting ice sky.
"Tell me about it," I mumble.
Finally, the door opens. Goodamn dog starts licking the locksmith. He starts licking me. Stupid, funny dog.
I sign papers, get a receipt and the locksmith gives me two keys for the new lock. "Don't forget to separate them!" he tells me.
"Don't worry, I won't." I say.
But I did.
The very next (fucking) day, still sick, still delirous, still stupid as shit, I go over and do all the things I'm supposed to do and guess what?!?!?!? I closed the door behind me and LEFT.THE.GODDAMN.KEYS on the table again. The door locks!
O.
M.
F.
G!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, I have to call the motherfucking locksmith again. He doesn't have a "master" because apparently "that wouldn't be right" and I have to agree, just not right then. I felt so stupid. You know it cost me $70 for that guy to pick the new lock! He pitied me and gave me $10 off. That $70 was my own personal money to buy presents with but responsibility fucking blows sometimes. I felt like such a turd. I didn't even tell my neighbors about the second time. I was embarassed enough having to tell Terry who merely shook his head at me and kind of chuckled.
You better not tell J&R either. I'll send Bailey after you and he'll spray you at least a dozen times!!
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