About a year ago, John and Sarah Thompson moved in next door. At first, they seemed quite pleasant. They had two large dogs named Max and Daisy, were in their early 40s, and were childless. We shook hands, I gave them some of my baked chocolate chip cookies as a welcome gift, and we occasionally borrowed a cup of sugar. Just your normal neighborhood fare, you know. However, after several months, things began to deteriorate.Those pets became the bane of my life very soon. I adore animals, don’t get me wrong, but these dogs had a behavior that was really bothering me. They would relieve themselves directly at their yard’s edge, but they didn’t stop there. No, the Thompsons had come up with a small scheme. They would gather up the mess, wait until they thought no one was watching, and then—get this—throw it straight over the fence and into my garden. It began as an uncommon incident, but soon I was coming home to discover dog poop in my flower beds almost every day. < I initially made an effort to be forgiving of them. Who intentionally tosses dog crap over a fence? It must have been an accident of some sort, I reasoned. I made the decision to deal with the matter head-on in the hopes that a cordial conversation would resolve it. I made the decision to bring it up one day while John and I were both outside in our yards. Trying to keep things light, I added, “Hey, John. I noticed some dog poop in my garden lately.” It may be from Max or Daisy, I believe. Is there any way you could watch them while they’re outside?”John turned to face me, a tight-lipped smile that almost reached his eyes bursting out on his face. “Well, it’s definitely not them. With a faint smile that suggested he was making fun of me, he continued, “Perhaps it’s your kids.” It surprised me. My children? Really? Although I felt like arguing, I could see John wasn’t feeling very honest. I made the decision to let it go for the time being because I didn’t want to get into a heated argument with my neighbor. However, I realized that I couldn’t ignore this. If I didn’t take action, they wouldn’t stop, and going up against them hadn’t worked either. It was time for something a little more… imaginative, I thought. Something understated but powerful. My thoughts began to build a plan, and the more I considered it, the more deliciously trivial it appeared. I was absolutely going to give them a taste of their own medicine if they continued tossing their dogs’ poop onto my yard. I should note right now that I have always baked rather well. Here, my chocolate chip cookies are famous, so I thought it was time to live up to the hype. It was an easy plan: I would make some cookies, but with a small modification.I grabbed my ingredients the following day: chocolate chips, flour, sugar, and a bit extra. Though I’m not proud of what I did next, difficult situations often necessitate desperate actions. I walked outside to my garden, grabbed some of the offending material, sealed it in a bag, and put on some gloves. Now, let me to explain before you draw any hasty conclusions. I was not going to bake with real dog crap. However, I needed something that would convey the idea. Rather, I went to the pet supply store and grabbed a package of the most odorous dog treats I could locate. These tiny brown nuggets had an awful smell, even though they appeared to be chocolate chips. Perfect. After combining them with the actual chocolate chips, I made a new batch of cookies and let them to cool.The smell filled my kitchen as the cookies baked. The strong fragrance of dog treats combined with the aroma of chocolate made for an unusual and frightening combination. Though unpleasant, it was precisely what I needed. Though I was sick to my stomach, I forced myself to go through it because I knew the Thompsons were going to taste their own medicine. After the cookies cool off, I gently place them inside a pretty, shiny tin. I scribbled a note in my best handwriting as a finishing touch: “To the best neighbors, enjoy these fresh-baked cookies! – The Wilsons”I laughed to myself thinking of their response, but I wasn’t finished yet. Everything depended on timing. I watched with patience the following day as Mrs. Thompson left, perhaps to run one of her regular errands. When it was safe to do so, I scurried across our lawns and crept the cookie tin onto their porch. I went back to my house after that and stood close to the window to watch what happened. It was not long before chaos broke out. I was tending my garden that evening when I heard a disturbance come from the Thompson home. The dogs’ loud, deep barks could be heard throughout the peaceful neighborhood. I could clearly hear Mr. Thompson yelling, “What the hell is wrong with these cookies?!” over the din.I couldn’t help but smile as it came across my face. This exceeded my expectations. I had expected that they would find out that something was wrong, but I had not counted on how fast it would all happen. I heard the Thompsons arguing angrily in their backyard one evening while I was watering my flowers. Despite their quiet whispers, they were audible across the fence. “Those Wilsons gave us some kind of sick prank cookies!” Mrs. Thompson growled, embarrassed and enraged at the same time. Mr. Thompson shot back, sounding both guilty and frustrated. “They must’ve known about the poop,” he said. “What are we going to do?” With a strong voice, she urged, “Just keep quiet.” “We don’t want the whole neighborhood knowing we’ve been throwing dog crap over the fence.” I almost knocked over my watering container. The confirmation I had been hoping for was right there. They were aware of their guilt. They now realized that I was also aware of it. The best part, though, is that something amazing occurred a few days later. I stopped seeing dog excrement in my yard. It appeared to be magical. I was overjoyed that my tiny retaliation had been successful. However, the tale did not finish there. A few weeks later, the Thompsons showed up for the BBQ that our neighborhood sponsored. They avoided making eye contact with me and appeared to be reserved. However, I wasn’t going to let them off the hook so lightly.“John, hello! Sarah!” I waved them over, a tray of fresh cookies in hand, and shouted out joyfully. “I have additional cookies for the celebration. Would you like to give one a try?” When they saw the cookies, their faces became pale. Muttering something about being full, they excused themselves fast and were off, almost running. As I watched them duck away, I laughed to myself. Unaware of the inner joke between the Thompsons and me, the other neighbors cheerfully gobbled up the cookies. I heard several of the neighbors talking about the Thompsons as the evening went on.\One neighbor said, “Have you noticed how quiet their dogs have been lately?”Another said, “Yeah, and their yard’s been spotless.” It seems that my small act of inventive retaliation had not only resolved my issue but also changed the Thompsons’ conduct. Because of their boldness and a little creativity, they were now the model neighbors.
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