Wilbur?

Or maybe Boomer? We don't know, just that the owner across the street yells "Buuubuh" anytime Wilbur comes close to us. Maybe Bubba? Whatever his name is, Mr. Unfriendly, who refuses to return our waves doesn't like it. I don't think he likes Shack Dwellers.

My friend is going through a similar experience, except they don't live in a shack so I don't know their neighbors' excuse. What's up, unfriendly neighbors of America. Is it some sort of club? The UNA club. Is his child receiving a scholarship for being part of the club? For gawd's sake, Wave.

We've had a good laugh, though, watching how hard they avoid making eye contact with us. One guy actually twisted his body in such an awkward way while getting out of the car to avoid facing us. And then side-shuffled along the side of the vehicle to the front door. Oh, how that made us giggle!

Oh, people.



Anyway, sometimes we walk out the door and there's Wilbur/Bubba/Boomer. Like he's waiting for us to hug him.



So we do. Apparently he likes giving kisses to pirates.

It doesn't help that N carries dog treats in his car for random "leeedull dowggies" in the town. Seriously, without even owning a dog. He's like that weird guy getting a little to close for comfort to kids on the playground, only it's dogs.



I get up to go, and Wilbur asks me not to just yet. Please rub behind my ears some more. I don't care if you live in a Shack.

But I have to get dinner started, Wilbur. We'll play another time. Promise.



And as I was prepping my food, I watched him slowly make his way back home across the street. He'd walk a little bit, then lay down and stare at The Shack, walk, lay down a bit, stare.. walk, lay down  a bit, stare, all the way home.

Oh, Wilbur. How you make up for your owners.