What Giant Jerks!

Someone had to say it!

On another topic:

King!

Thank you very much for your sage counsel (see comment on previous post). I bumped into a parallel sentiment on the Ann Arbor Reddit: someone saying that they found they minded the cold in winter much less if they made sure to go outside every day; at least one person concurred. I will do it! That is a very good point about there being more light outside than inside even if it’s overcast.

Moving on to the events of today, I had previously mentioned the dog of my neighbor, Digby, making unwanted visits to my back yard. 

On August 11, I sent her this letter; which I include here as pertinent to what happened today; identifying details altered. (I had mentioned the problem to her verbally two or three times before sending the letter.)

Dear Digby,

I am writing to express my growing frustration with Sam’s continued unwanted visits to my back yard, which in Ypsilanti qualify her as a “nuisance animal.” (Legally speaking, a misdemeanor.)

Sam was on my property at least three times in a recent two-week period. The first time, she was evidently looking for the woodchuck. A week later, she was chasing a rabbit and most recently, she startled / frightened a workman. 

None of these is desirable, but the reason this has now become a matter of utmost importance to me is that my cats will soon be living here. For the most part the best of friends, if they become agitated, they can fight seriously enough to injure each other.

For that reason, it is essential that Sam not trespass onto my property after September 1, 2026.

I will leave it to you as to whether to install a physical fence, try an electronic fence or come up with some other solution, as long as it is 100 percent effective. If you decide to install a fence, please bear in mind that the lot line is at the utility pole and ensure that any fence doesn’t go beyond that point. ([The previous owner] placed a number of rocks on my property; I intend to remove them one of these days.)

This problem aside, I have enjoyed having you as a neighbor and of course hope that our relationship will on the whole be cordial and peaceful, and that we will easily resolve any issues that may arise.

Sincerely,
Bugwalk

I had arranged for junk haulers to come today to take various things away, including the aforementioned rocks. Two friendly fellows arrived to do this work; soon one of them was banging urgently on my deck door. When I went to the door, he said that my neighbor was out there.

I had not gotten any response from Digby to my letter (not that one was expected), no fence has been installed, and, while I have heard her dog barking, I haven’t seen it in my yard. Since I was not sure what her reaction to my letter had been, I was pleased to have the opportunity to interact and went out there in a welcoming mood.

I joined the two junk haulers and Digby where the two yards meet, and then someone else walked up, loudly saying, “Hello, Bugwalk!”

“Who are you?”, I asked.

This proved to be Digby’s mother, who has a commanding presence. She walked up (on my property) to about six inches from my eyeballs and we sized each other up. I’ll bet we were both thinking, “Huh—rather like me.” We’re about the same height, same build, same (White) coloring, and same assertive energy. Thank god I got my bald fade yesterday! A definite edge for me; her gray frizzy hair (not unlike my hair) was longer and pulled back.

I had always understood that the lot line is at the utility pole, but Digby and her mother understand it to be somewhere else (about a foot closer in my direction) and showed me the marker, which looked like a cut-off plumbing pipe sticking about five inches out of the ground. Cool! I never saw one before. And fine.

I said, “Okay. Where do you think the line for rock removal should be, then,” and we worked that out, per the lot marker. Initially Digby was indicating a line that kept swerving toward me, but we were able to agree quite quickly, and the junk haulers set to work.

Digby or her mother (who I think is visiting from another state, but I’m not sure about that) said they would actually like to retain those rocks that I was having removed from my yard. I said they were welcome to them. I said that I was paying to have them hauled away, but if Digby would like to make a contribution toward the cost, I would be happy to have them placed on her property instead. Nearly rolling her eyes at this preposterous suggestion, Digby said she would not be making a contribution. I said that was fine and told the junk haulers to continue with their work as previously described.

I went back inside only to be apprised that Digby’s mother kept returning to the area to say she wanted the rocks put in her daughter’s yard, though she was standing right there when Digby and I had the simple exchange about this.

I walked back over there with one of the junk haulers. En route, I mentioned my plans to plant some things there. Digby’s mother called over, “Bugwalk, what are you planning to do here?” Even though I know perfectly well and the four ilexes (holly plants) are wending their way to my address even as I write, I said that I’m still thinking it over: none of her business. (Digby was nowhere to be seen at this point and was not seen again.)

Here the details get a little hazy in my memory, but I think Digby’s mother again said she’d like the rocks to be dumped into her daughter’s yard (pushy!) and she also advised that I write Digby a note letting her know what I was going to do in the vicinity of the lot line. Here I lost my temper.

Basically yelling, I said that whatever I planted was going to be on my own property and that I had no intention of apprising Digby regarding same. I said that if I were ever to do anything that affected Digby, of course I would let her know. And, just to make sure we were all on the same page, I said very loudly, “I am angry!” (I have often gotten good results by saying this to whatever vendor. Not, “You are a big turd!” Not, “I am going to come over and kick a dent in your garage!” Just, “I am angry!”)

(By the way, the junk haulers were deeply admiring of this. One said later on that I had put Digby’s mother in her place, and the other said he was glad I had spoken up.)

After I said I was angry, Digby’s mother said, “I am, too!” 

There was a pause, and then I said, “You know, Digby’s Mother, this really is nothing to do with you or me. If [the previous owner] hadn’t put rocks in my yard, neither of us would be angry right now.” (Subtly making the point, or such was my intention, that we would not always be angry.)

The junk haulers finished their work, and I came inside to describe the whole incident to my sister.

(Digressing to say that the first time Digby came to my attention in a not-good way was when she wrote the note to my plant-loving next-door neighbor to complain about his bush reaching its green fingers into her yard. (She should have simply cut off whatever was in her yard. I myself just had quite a bit of that neighbor’s pine tree removed for the same reason.) Digby’s note to my next-door neighbor caused an intense but brief brouhaha, as he thought the letter was from Digby the tree guy—different person—and for some reason suspected me of causing Digby to write this letter. We got past that, and then it was Digby’s dog treating my yard as its own, and now this. I hope we are not going to have endless conflict and legal wrangling. One of the junk haulers said they see this kind of dispute often in the course of their work, and he observed that there is always one bad neighbor. The person who put the rocks in my yard was also a difficult neighbor, so maybe it is something about that house itself.)

I said to my sister today on the phone that I don’t really care where precisely the lot line is and that I didn’t plan to call the City of Ypsilanti about it, and that I would just make sure to plant my ilexes definitely in my own yard, with enough room to spare that Digby wouldn’t later cut half the plants off if they crossed the lot line.

My sister, unfortunately, is not of the temperament to say, “What giant jerks!” (She is of the temperament to let things rest until any agitation fades away.) However, she did think it might actually be prudent to have the lot surveyed. I said maybe I should just put a fence in that area; she said there might be zoning requirements I should be aware of.

So I was soon on the phone to the City of Ypsilanti, after all, where a calm-sounding fellow said that if my fence is going to be right on the lot line, a survey is needed—that’s the whole problem: I don’t know where it is, which I had not been aware of until today. A survey is not needed as long as the fence is a foot inside the lot line (wherever that may be), and if the fence is going to be more than six feet tall, you have to speak with the engineering department. Good information! I asked about a surveyor and the fellow said they are not allowed to make recommendations.

I texted my realtor to see if she could recommend a surveyor and she immediately sent a name. I filled out that fellow’s online form and am waiting to hear from him.

One thing I’m not sure about is the situation along the side, as opposed to the back, of Digby’s lot. The back of her lot abuts the back of my lot, but if I just put a fence along that stretch, could and would her dog merely walk around the end of the fence? Is there any physical object preventing that? Maybe the findings of the surveyor will be helpful here, or next time I see Digby’s own next-door neighbor, I can ask if I can take a peek at that area.

I plan to send Digby a letter (by the way, I politely included my phone number and email address in my letter to her, but I do not have either of those pieces of information for her, so it will have to be a letter) saying I have had my lot surveyed or that I am about to, and that I am thinking of having a fence installed (so as to forestall future disputes akin to that of today; I do not plan to include that reasoning in my letter), and that I will pause for at least a month before installing a fence to give her a chance to hire her own even-better surveyor.