It started out odd.  Then it progressed into livid.  Long night.

So, I got home around five-fifteen last night.  I thought it was weird that I heard NOTHING from the backyard where the dogs were locked outside.. but then again, I thought, it was a gorgeous day and maybe they were happy to spend the day outside.  So I came into the house, set my dinner in the fridge, and walked to the back door, and saw Mabel laying motionless on the ground and Charlie standing beside her, heaving.

This made me a little worried.

I’m not one to jump to conclusions, but I had this sudden thought flash through my head.. Mabel’s dead.  We had often seen Mark’s (our neighbor) son out shooting what was arguably a bb gun or a paintball gun, and I just knew he had finally gotten tired of shooting birds and squirrels and aimed at my dog.  She was laying in a position she never sleeps in, and no matter how much Charlie moved around her, she didn’t stir.  Granted, she’s deaf and wouldn’t have heard me open the back door.. but something wasn’t right.

I slowly walked to the two animals, and Charlie finally heaved.  Bright yellow vomit landed on Mabel, and again, she didn’t move.  I was convinced my dog was lost.  And Charlie was grieving in his own way.

When I finally got close enough to touch her, she slowly stirred.  She lifted her head to look at me, and sluggishly rose.  This is not like Mabel.  She is a fast moving dog.  And, in a big EWWW! moment, she was covered in Charlie’s vomit.  I took her inside and wiped her down, but noticed that some yellow blotches didn’t come up.  No big deal, I thought, I’d wash her later and scrub her down.

I fed the dogs and they seemed fine, if not a little sheepish.  Charlie WOULD NOT go back outside.  Something was definitely up.  I began cleaning the house, sweeping dusting vaccuuming, all that good stuff, and Charlie would not leave my side.  It was just odd.

I went and ate back on my patio.  Since we have the patio furniture now, we have a place to dine outside and spend quite a bit of time outside.  This is how we saw Mark’s son, a HUGELY overgrown “Lenny”, shoot squirrels and birds with an air-powered rifle, although we argued what the ammo truly was.  Bryan was convinced it was bbs, but it just sounded like paintballs to me.

After dinner, I plopped Mabel in the bathtub and ran the water.  I noticed that she visibly shuddered when I touched her.. and that, most importantly.. these yellow spots were in perfectly formed circles.  Hmm.

Once she was clean and somewhat dry, I went back outside.

I knew that they often used an old political sign (one of those “Sarah Brown for Mayor” kind of signs) for target practice, so I initially wandered to our fence to see what color was splattered over it.  I saw nothing, so almost went back inside.. and as I turned, I stepped on a shell.

And they were NOT hard to see.  Bright metallic blue.

So I started walking the yard.. found one.. two.. three.. four.. they were everywhere.  By this point, I was no longer suspicious.  I had even skipped over mad.  I was livid.

I called Bryan first, who said he was on his way home.  While he was driving, I called the HPD to see how much “good faith effort” I should put into trying to reconcile this before filing a report.  The officer’s response?  “Ma’am, let me send an officer over there right now.. that’s a misdemeanor, firing a weapon at an animal.  And at close range, ma’am.. those things HURT.”

I told the dispatcher to let me talk to the people first.. after all, it was a minor involved and I should give the parents a chance to BE THE ADULT.  So when Bryan walked in, I put four of the shells on a white plate (to show that yellow ooze was still leaking out), slipped some sandals on, and walked over there.  Breathing deeply.  Trying to remain calm.  But really, ready to beat some redneck ass.

I’ll admit it: I have a slight problem with condescension when I’m angry.  I don’t yell.  I don’t shout.  I simply use my teacher-to-a-dumb-five-year-old voice.  I know that.  And it was in full force.

Mark’s wife, mother of the perp, answered the door.  I poured on the nice.  “Hi, there!” I said, beaming and shoving a plate full of empty paintball shells in her face.  “These were in my backyard.. and coincidentally, my dog was covered in yellow spots.  Now, I didn’t SEE anything happen, so I’m not going to make any accusations, but you can imagine what kind of picture this paints..”

She nodded.  “Oh, yeah.  That was my son.”

And she stopped talking.  As if to say, “Sure.  Yep.  My son.  The end.”  As if I had asked, I was just wondering who had been playing rifle practice with a deaf animal.  As if I was just going to thank her.

I was really almost speechless.  But even more angry, if you can imagine.  “Yes, well,” I said, dropping any of the nice, “If y’all could NOT shoot any animals on my side of the fence, I’d greatly appreciate that.”

She shook her head.  “I’m sure he didn’t mean to.”

Again, I had very little (civil) to say.  “Ma’am, let me just say again that my dog was COVERED.  I seriously doubt it was accidental.”

She pointed to their great dane.  “We’re big animal people.  I just don’t think he would.”  I started to come apart, and she must’ve seen my hackles rise because she finished with, “I’ll talk to him.” and shut the door.

I went back to my house, angry and dissatisfied with that ending.  But, I think I did the right thing.  I gave them the opportunity to DO THEIR JOB and BE THE ADULT.  Oddly enough, when I went back out to the patio, one of our chairs was (newly) splattered with yellow and a bright blue metallic shell sat on the patio table, not six inches from where I’d eaten dinner.

It’s on.

*edit* So I’ve spoken to several of you (and I apologize if some of it was less than kind.. it’s been a day over here that a later post will explain), and have decided that when I get home today, I’ll call the dispatch and file a report.*