Shirley

"Well, it happened again."

She stands a foot taller than the fence, so that I can see her head, ominously still, but nothing more. Her eyes, somewhere in the center of the visible section of Shirley, are surrounded by pale pink flesh as crumpled as yesterday's junk mail. Trying for a scowl, I guess.

"Aw Shirley, I know you don't like it when T- "

"Dont like it!" her voice rises, operatically, reaching high enough that it almost, blessedly, blinks out of range of the perception of the human ear - almost - but not quite.

 "Eddie, I Have Shit" here she pauses, for dramatic effect, clasping her ankle and yanking her whole leg up towards me, straining to make it visible above the fence line - her foot is important evidence - 

"all over " she pauses again, looking up at me, making sure I am listening with full attention 

"my best pair of jogging shoes." 

She pants a little, and I think, but dare not say, that although her jog may be postponed, there is a perhaps a chance that she is burning some extra calories anyways, from pure inner consternation. 

I look down. T-bone, the source of this unpleasant encounter, wags his heavy tail unquestioningly, and gazes up at me, not even bothering to feign innocence. 

"I'm sorry" I say, although perhaps not convincingly.

Shirley does one of her snorts. I think for a wonderful moment that this is her closing remark, and have actually turned towards the sanctuary of my garage when she blurts out.

"Next time, I'm calling this in."

Now this is menacing.

"Is there an authority that you call about your neighbors dog crap?"

"Well I can't talk more about it right now, I have to go clean my shoe."