One of my favorite blogs to frequent is the Living Proof (Beth Moore) blog. It is just wonderful and provides a lot of fun and a lot of insight. Beth and her daughter, Amanda, are both authors on the blog and one of Amanda’s latest posts, “Sunday Visitation” really caught my attention.
She tells the tale of meeting her new neighbors through a series of events gone wrong, involving her golden retriever and her neighbor’s dog. I had to comment on this one because I, too, had met my neighbors by way of a dramatic doggy introduction. I thought I should also post the story here, for your amusement!

About twelve years ago, my oldest daughter and I were out front with our big lab, Nick. He was very well-behaved, but, like most retrievers, he had a hard time staying put if a squirrel or the like crossed his path. That day, he caught sight of one of those pesky little darlings and off he went, heading straight for our new neighbor’s yard in hot pursuit. However, the moment he set foot on their lawn, he was distracted by the sight of their cat perched innocently on the INSIDE of their bay window. In a split-second decision, he set off in favor of larger game and sailed over the neighbor’s front hedge in a perfect, athletic hurdle…straight THROUGH their window!

When I got there and surveyed the crime-scene-like damage, gazing at my beast nosing around their living room in search of the cat that had fled, screeching, into the very bowels of their house, it became clear that the neighbors weren’t home. All I knew was that I had to think of something quick because their carpet and drapes were covered in glass and blood from the lacerated nose of my big lug. I had no idea what their names were, where they worked, nothing, nada, bupkis. I ended up leaving a note on the front and back door, begging, PLEADING, that they call me BEFORE they walked in their living room and called the cops!

Fortunately, they did. They were definitely a little stunned, but were very gracious. Later, after everything was repaired and good as new (although I’m sure the cat still suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder), they did wonder aloud why we didn’t just bring over a plate of brownies by way of an introduction, like normal people. Indeed.