Please, no

Please tell me that the pet carrier that has suddenly appeared among the junk in the neighbor’s yard does NOT mean they are acquiring a dog. Please tell me that. She can barely attend to her kids, who are allowed to wander free throughout town and are regularly allowed up past midnight, playing in the yard on the world’s most dangerous trampoline. (These are grade-schoolers.) And I’m accustomed to odd pieces of crap showing up in the yard (like the on-again off-again father’s beloved section of stockade fence, which he would pop in and out of his truck as fashion suited). But the good-sized pet carrier is ominous, and they already have cats they don’t take care of (who spend most of their time trying to get into my garage so they can piss all over it — I like cats, but I don’t even know if these have had their shots, and there’s rabies all over around here, so I tell my kids to give these animals wide berth). So please tell me they haven’t acquired a dog. Please.

Update: Yes, there is a puppy over there. God help it.

And now I’ve got The Ramones’ “Pet Sematary” stuck in my head:
“I don’t want to be buried
In a pet cemetery
I don’t want to live my life again.”

By the way, updated listing of my iTunes library. Judge me by the music I listen to!