FICTION: Neighbor Network

It’s a fox. It’s a bear. Carjacker. Package thief. Jehovah’s witness. Thin Mints. Ding-dongditch. A fox? Lost dog? It’s a spider spinning a web ffs. That’s coyotes. Cat looks cared for and well fed. Anyone know who this guy is? What a low-life. This app will go out of business when people stop leaving keys in unlocked cars.

When I call FedEx they say the package was delivered. It was on the lawn. At the neighbor’s door. Under a bush. Tucked in the rafters. I ran over it. I backed over it. Here’s my mailman delivering books into a flowerpot filled with water. The town council pays lip service.

Goes by the name of Mush. Harvey. Jack. Rusty. Ghost. Tugger. Ollie. Daisy. All white. White and gray. Pale orange. Persian. Kind of big. Green eyes. It would not stop meowing. Cat emoji. Siren emoji.

Why has Alison Bechdel not authorized an abridged copy of Fun Home for high-school use?

This little cutie is crying. A silver sparkly collar. No collar. Skittish. Short fur. Full grown. White paws. Some white like a cape. Maybe Himalayan. Might just be exploring. Lawn mowing after 6pm on weekends is the devil. They are not lost. Leave the fawns alone.

This little guy seems confused. Scared. Is he from the house fire? Spotted at the park. Her name is Honey. She is friendly. She is freezing. I tried to catch her but she ran away. She’s living under my deck. I’m crazy allergic. I had to close the door. Keep an eye out you never know how far and fast they travel.

That black bear left grease streaks on my car.

We’ve never seen this before. We’re concerned.

His name is Troy. King. Dante. Chad. Very friendly husky. Blue-nose pit bull. Boxercoon hound. Golden Pomeranian. An old brown dog. A yellow lab. A 15-year-old Bichon named Chip. A chocolate brown ‘hot dog’ dog. Fifteen pounds of curly white fur. A majestic collie named Shelby. A collar but no tags. Responds to Jax. Snoopy. Fonzie. Apollo. Luna. Cadbury is a Keeshond. This dog shows up in my camera every day. Possibly deaf and blind. Barking at 4:30 am. Ninety-nine percent sure it’s a dog.

It’s a twenty-degree night. His leash was caught on a log. I think I need a new lawn service. My dog was rescued from China. From Jamaica. From North Carolina. From Texas. Those carpets were dumped at my kid’s bus stop. Are you shitting me? That’s my goat that ran away when it thundered. His name is Piper. Near the intersection of Dock Watch and Blazier? That’s my cow thanks. Its zap collar stopped zapping. That’s my chicken. That’s my chicken, too. Anyone know this sweet thing? Our dog McGraw is missing.

In need of recommendations for dog trainer. A gynecologist for my daughter. A landscaper. A speech therapist. Spa. An auto accident lawyer. Grandfather clock repair. A pool opening service. Private chef. A doctor who prescribes Armour. Someone to hone and shine my foyer. A dry bar for blow outs. A cord of firewood. A plumber. A caterer. An electrician. Fill dirt. Thank you.

A.E. Weisgerber is from Orange, NJ and has recent/forthcoming work in 3:AM, Yemassee, SmokeLong, DIAGRAM, Matchbook Lit, Gravel Mag, and The Alaska Star. She is a 2018 Chesapeake Writer, 2017 Frost Place Scholar, 2014 Reynolds Fellow, and Assistant Series Editor for the Wigleaf Top 50. She is writing her first novel. Follow @aeweisgerber or visit

Image: Dog, Vincent van Gogh, 1862

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