(Mis) Adventures in Samsonland

I'm traipsing around the block with Lucy and Woodster and Memphis when I actually see the weird old woman who lives at the end of the block. She left town for some four months at the beginning of summer, leaving behind one bag of cat food and a vague request to one of her neighbors to feed her cat. Before that, we would only see her spying on people in the neighborhood from the safety of her car. Literally. For hours, she would sit in the car, the dashboard lights on, watching people. Weird, yes?

So anyway, my motley crew and I are making our way around the block when I see her. She's trimming some vines (why, I wonder? why those vines, considering her entire yard is a combination of dry dirt and overgrown foliage and piles of odd things) and leaving them in a messy heap in the middle of the sidewalk (where they remain, withering and prickly, several days later).

Hi, I say.

Hello, she responds. Followed by, Did you put two cats in my yard while I was gone this summer? When I left there was only one cat, but now there are three. I want to know who put them there.

I explain that while I was one of the many people who fed her cat (did she acknowledge this? say thank you? even nod her head the slightest bit? that would be a big fat no), neither I nor any of the other people who tended to her cat deposited the newcomers in her yard. Most likely they entered of their own volition, being homeless and in need of a safe place and regular food, I offer as explanation.

Well, I don't want them there. They need to go.

I offer to trap them for her to have them spayed/neutered, but tell her they must be returned to her property as that is the policy of the organization that helps with this.

No--trap them and take them to the pound.

I explain that they will be killed at the pound because they are feral.

Some back and forth--until she finally agrees that since she doesn't want to trap them and this is what I am willing to do for her, they can return.

As I prepare to depart, she says she wants a German shepherd.

To mask my shock at the inappropriateness of this (how can a woman in her seventies handle a dog that size? what about the feral cats in her backyard? what a miserable life that dog would have!), I simply say that's a big dog and take off.

I just don't get it! How can people be so out of touch! And on SO many levels! First--accusing me of dumping cats in her yard when I, along with so many of her neighbors fed her cat out of our pockets for months! And this was not convenient, either! Never saying thank you! Leaving her yard dumpings in the middle of the sidewalk! Announcing her desire for a large, rambunctious dog that would need major training and exercise! And let's not forget the spying from the front seat of her car...

What do you DO with people like that?