This is my dad. This is my dad after I said “Hey, Dad! There’s a UHaul next door!”
This is my mom after my dad said “She wasn’t kidding, there’s a UHaul next door!”
This is my dad after he left the other window to get a better look, and so that my mom could take over the first window.
This is a close up of my dad with his nose pressed against the glass that he has to stand on his tippy toes to see out of.
Now that you know this about my family, I feel the need to explain some of the history behind The Rental House. There is a legitimate reason we get this excited/terrified when we see a UHaul over there.
We live next to a house. We live in a nice little development in a nice little suburb with nice neighbors. But this house, it’s The Rental House, and it is cursed.
The first neighbors I remember were actually good neighbors, so this is a bad start to the story. I was 12 or 13, their kid was 1 or 2, and I had a babysitting job for life. Except that the first time the dad came home, I had put the kids diaper on backwards. And one time the people across the street threatened to call the police on me because I was doing that thing where you spin a kid around by their arms, right? That’s totally fine. But the part they objected to was that I would put her down (she was about 4 or 5) and tell her to walk towards me. She’d be so dizzy, she’d lean and lean and lean and then fall. Now, I’m not cruel, or stupid – we were on grass and the kid was laughing as hard as I was, she loved it. I babysat her all through junior high and high school, and then a few summers during college. The summers were awesome – her dad would give us money and tell us “have a great day” and we’d go have a freaking great day. Now the kid is a college graduate and I feel really, really old.
I get fuzzy about the order of the people who moved into that house after the kid. I’ll start with the Capones. Like, Al Capone’s family. Fo’ real. Direct descendants. They had an awesome dog named Tara who they kept chained up in the garage and never let her out or in. She was huge and a Rottweiler. My parents would go over every day and hang out with the dog just so she had company. In the winter, they bought her camping style sleeping bags so she’d have a warm place to be. They’d go over and give her fresh water when hers froze. We were not happy with the Capones. Then, the kids found a baby deer. So they brought it home. And then they got sent home from school because they had some deer disease. They moved out in the middle of the night and we never saw them again.
There was a family who lost their iguana that lived in their bathtub, only to find it dead several months later, down the street.
There was a family of legit hoarders – that was an impressive feat when they moved out. And in, for that matter.
There is a reason we have a Temporary Dog, and that would be the family that lived there most recently. I would like to preface this with the fact that I got a very good friend out of this one, it just happened that she was at a crazy point in her life. It wasn’t the people that made this Rental interesting, though, it was the animals. They started with a dog and three cats. Soon, it was a dog and somewhere around 6 or 7 cats. Then 8 or 9. Eventually, at the most impressive point, there were 11 cats and 3 dogs living in the house. Because I, like my parents, can not watch animals be sad, I got the two female kitties who were responsible for the baby kitties fixed. By that time one had babies one time, and the other had babies two times. I found homes for several of the kittens, and weeded it down to the original three, now fixed, cats. One of the three dogs belonged to the sister of my friend. This dog was SO nice and sweet, so of course, the sister, Maria, decided that she would let the dog loose without a collar on and hope that the police picker her up, otherwise she would have to pay $50 to take the dog to the pound because she couldn’t afford her anymore. My dad paid to take the dog to Rescue Village. I, in a moment of boldness I can only describe as Blind Hatred For Those Who Are Mean To Animals, I told Maria exactly what I thought of her. From then on, she referred to me as “the bitch neighbor”, and I’m ok with that.
One couple moved in and the woman was extremely nice, and is our friend to this day and we love her. Her husband, however, was an ass and a half. He’d wake her up when she was asleep and tell her to cut his hair. Or make him corn. That was a big one – he always made her pull that green stuff off of his corn so he could eat corn. Then one day he got so mad at her for not shucking his damn corn that he slammed his fist into something and broke it. That meant that our lovely, nice, dear friend had to do EVERYTHING for him because his hand hurt. Because he broke it. Because he didn’t get his way. Thankfully they separated. Sometimes I see the man in very random places and I have to duck and run. I don’t see the woman nearly enough – Talia, if you are reading this, that’s you!
That is just a partial peak into the life of The Rental House. There are Oh So Many more stories to come.