WHEN NICE PEOPLE GO BAD: HOW A $2,000 DOG BILL CAUSED WINDOWS TO BE PAINT-SPLATTERED
My neighbor completely destroyed my windows with paint when I wouldn’t give her $2,000 for the treatment of her dog.
As Julia refuses to give her neighbor $2000 for a little dog mishap, a violent dispute ensues. Tensions are rising as Julia navigates the upheaval and deals with family matters. But when her neighbor paints over her windows, Julia loses it and plots some horrible revenge.
Permit me to tell you the tale of how, living in a peaceful suburban area, I came dangerously close to losing my mind.
I’m Julia, and for more than a decade, my husband Roger and I lived in this charming little house with our ten-year-old son Dean.
Life was very good, provided you could get past your constant worry for Roger’s welfare. But all changed when Linda moved in next door.
Linda. Just thinking about her makes my blood pressure rise. From the moment she brought her golden retriever, Max, into the office, we were not friends.
Nothing major at first—just little things like her loud music or the fact that she let Max wander wherever he wanted. But one lovely afternoon, things went wrong.
While I was trimming my roses in my backyard, Max ran over to me and started to wave like he ruled the place. Very cute dog, yet I’m intrigued. He smelled certain things, and he yelled before I realized.
A little thorn is implanted in the poor creature’s paw. I knelt down, soothed him, and extracted the thorn with care. Max licked my fingers, and I gave him a pat on the head.
I went with him back to Linda’s, maybe expecting a thank you. Instead, she just stood there, crossing her arms and scowled.
My dog limps; why is that? She cried, “What were you doing?”
“He just stepped on a tiny thorn,” I shot back, trying not to lose my cool. “I removed it, and he seems OK.”
She sighed, and I thought that was it. How wrong I was!
Furious, I charged right over to Julia’s apartment. I went to her door and showed her the evidence that linked her to the crime.
I got up one morning to find a note taped to my door. “You owe me $2000 for Max’s treatment,” it stated.
As I looked at it, I was amazed. Two thousand dollars? For what reason? The dog was cut, but not severely. I decided to come over and explain everything.
Linda, what’s the deal? I pointed to the message and asked.
“That’s for Max’s veterinary bill,” she said in a stern tone. “That thorn caused him pain all through the night.”
I said, “I’m sorry, but that is ridiculous.” “As a gesture of goodwill, I’ll give you $100, but two thousand is out of the question.”
Linda’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll regret it or you pay up.”
From the first moment of our meeting, Linda made my life a living hell.
She would honk, flip me off, and tip over my trash cans every time she drove past. The worst was when she tried to get Dean arrested. My innocent, loving boy Dean was just riding a minibike like all the other youngsters in the neighborhood.
One afternoon, I was sitting on the porch sipping tea when I heard Linda’s car horn go off. I looked up, glaring at Dean who was playing in the driveway.
“Get that brat off that bike before I call the cops,” she exclaimed.
“Linda, these are only children!” I cried back, sensing my tolerance wearing thin.
She said, “Your kid is a menace, and I will take action if you don’t.”
I wanted to scream, cry, or do something, but I couldn’t. I was already overwhelmed with trying to maintain order, what with Roger back in the hospital. I inhaled deeply and glanced up at Dean.
I whispered politely, “Come in, honey.” “We’ll switch up the game.”
“But Mom, I didn’t do anything wrong,” Dean protested, shedding a tear or two.
“I get it, sweetie. It’s just a little challenging.
I made an effort to ignore Linda’s practical jokes and focus on Roger and Dean. But there was a sense of a ticking time bomb about us. I was constantly worried about what she would do next. She finally pushed me past my breaking point.
It was a Sunday afternoon when I received the call. Roger’s health had deteriorated, so I had to go straight to the hospital.
I hurried to the hospital after packing our things and dropping Dean off at my mother’s house.
I spent two agonizing days by Roger’s side, barely eating or sleeping, my mind racing from fatigue and worry.
All I wanted was a little respite and a chance to gather myself when I got back.
Instead, my house was transformed into a graffiti artist’s worst nightmare as soon as I pulled into my driveway. Paint flowing in disheveled streaks of red and yellow splattered across my windows.
It looked like someone tried to make my house into a circus tent. And there it was, on the doorstep, Linda’s message, “Just to make your days brighter!”
I stood there, trembling with rage, the weariness of the last two days fading into the flames of my rage. And that was all. This was the decisive instance.
With clenched teeth, I uttered a whisper, “Dean, please come inside.”
“But Mom, what took place?” He asked, his eyes wide with fear and confusion.
I repeated it, trying not to cry, and did so quietly this time. “Please just enter, honey.”
Dean nodded and hurried inside, leaving me alone to nurse my fury.
I rumpled Linda’s paper in my hand, my mind racing. It had to come to an end. If Linda wanted a war, she was going to get it.
Before she could say anything, there was a wail from within the house. I turned to see Julia’s son Dean sitting on the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks.
That afternoon, I drove to the hardware store. I walked down the aisles, my anger evaporating into a cold, analytical focus. A plan began to take shape when I noticed the Japanese Beetle traps.
I bought several packages of the scent lures and traps that attract beetles. As soon as I got home, I put the fragrance packets in the freezer. It would be simpler to work with the wax in the cold. My heart raced with a mixture of exhilaration and anxiety. This had to work.
At three in the morning, when the neighborhood was still in the shadows, I crept into Linda’s yard.
I felt like a character from one of Roger’s best-loved spy movies. Every distant leaf rustle made my pulse skip a beat. But I was determined. Beneath the mulch in Linda’s immaculate flower beds, I concealed the scent packs.
By the time I finished, the first signs of daylight were emerging.
I slipped back into my house and felt my heartbeat normalize at last. I was tired, yet as I climbed into bed, I felt a solemn fulfillment. Now it was just a question of time.
The next afternoon, when I looked out my window, I saw swarms of Japanese beetles glinting in the sunlight as they landed on Linda’s garden. It was working.
Over the next two days, her beautiful flower gardens were reduced to ragged ruins, with the once-vibrant flowers all that remained.
Linda’s Perspective: Beetles, Remorse, and a Change in Perception
Permit me to update the details. Hello, I’m Linda, and I came to this place to get some peace and quiet.
That dream was dashed when my golden retriever, Max, unintentionally wandered into Julia’s yard and got a thorn in his paw. Instead of just handing it back to him, she took it out as if she were doing me a favor.
The next day, I requested Julia to settle Max’s veterinary bill.
He spent the entire night limping and in pain. Still, she dared me with an offer of just $100 instead of the $2000 it would have otherwise cost. After our dispute, I told her she would regret not paying up. Nothing appeared to be spiraling out of hand.
Yes, I did, a few times, to show her that I wasn’t going to back down by toppling her trash cans and honking as I passed. But Julia portrayed me as the villain.
It wasn’t until insects had destroyed my garden that I realized things had gotten out of control.
I was running around my yard like a wild person. On the third day, when I was removing dead flowers from the mulch, I observed something odd. When I realized it was a Japanese beetle trap—a piece of plastic packaging—my heart fell.
This had been done on purpose by someone. And I was absolutely sure of who it was.
Furious, I charged right over to Julia’s apartment. I went to her door and showed her the evidence that linked her to the crime.
“Julia! Please allow yourself entry. With shaking fury in my voice, I yelled.
She opened the door, looking as calm as ever. “What’s going on, Linda?”
“You know what you did to my garden?” I tossed the piece of plastic in her direction. “I found this in my flower garden. You did indeed do this, correct?
Julia kept a straight face, but there was a glint of something in her eyes, maybe shame. “Lucina, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t tell me lies!” I started crying. “You ruined my backyard! What would make you behave in this way?
Before she could say anything, there was a wail from within the house. I turned to see Julia’s son Dean sitting on the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Is Dad going to pass away, Mom?” Dean sobbed, his little voice breaking.
Julia turned to face her son and glanced past me, her countenance softening. No, my love, everything will work out. The doctors and nurses are working really hard.
I stood frozen in place, watching this event unfold. Now my fury felt so insignificant.
Julia was a mother taking care of her sick husband and her afraid child; she was more than simply my annoying neighbor.
“Julia, I.” I started to speak, but my words faltered. In what words would I describe it? I was so overcome with wrath that I hadn’t considered what she might be going through.
Julia turned to face me, an expression of exhaustion on her face. I’m sorry, Linda, about your garden. But I didn’t actually do it. Your flowers don’t need to bother me; I already have too much on my plate.
My will to fight had left me. “I’m sorry, too,” I whispered. “I had no idea that things were so horrible for you.”
She nodded and said nothing more. I backed away, ashamed of my own ignorance. How did it get to be so unmanageable?
Having said that, I kept quiet. I stopped the minor harassment of Julia after realizing she had had enough. Though Julia and I never became friends, we were able to coexist peacefully while my garden eventually healed.
Years later, I still think about that time. Sometimes you have to put your own issues aside in order to comprehend what others are going through. Despite our continued estrangement as neighbors, Julia and I share a quiet respect for one another that was earned by adversity.
