She Who Must Not be Named

Today, Mamie and I had just begun her early-morning stroll and snuffle.
We’d made it to the building next to ours, which like other buildings in the complex, had a garage between it and the road circling the condos. 

The I heard The Voice.

I stopped Mamie in her tracks on the sidewalk and flattened myself against the wall of the garage. After a few breathless moments, I looked around the corner and saw a figure moving away down the road. I dragged Mamie at top speed in the other direction.

I came upon Janice, my next door neighbor, who was out with her ridiculously cute chocolate Yorkshire terrier, Reesie.

I said, “I have a confession.”

She said, “You hid.”

I said, “Did you see me?”

She said, “No, but that’s what I figured. She caught me a few minutes ago.”

There’s a woman in our complex who’s elevated herself beyond condo board president to Queen Bee of Everything. The same woman whose condo overlooks the pool and who watches us with her binoculars, the better to gallop down from the third floor to point out that no floats are allowed, or that a take-out cup of coffee by the pool is forbidden.

Funny thing was, the name was never spoken but Janice and I both knew who we meant.