As you may remember, my son was in detention for three weeks and recently returned home. Prior to the court hearing which allowed this, he agreed to follow certain rules in our home, as well as the conditions for his probation.

I could give a whole laundry list of things he has not done, although for the last few days he seems to be trying – most of the time. However, the “honeymoon” period lasted just 24 hours.

Oh, he was happy to come home, to see his room, his “stuff”, his brother, the dogs; to watch TV and get on his computer, and to eat “real” food.

We had a nice dinner, played some tennis, and had a great evening.

The next day, I took him to the local community college to talk to admissions and to pick up some forms, and a bit later he walked over to the phone store. That’s where the issues came into play.

See, he’s had a cell phone for a number of years, just over three actually, you’d think it was a living being that depended only upon him in order to function; perhaps, if you’d seen how he’s reacted over the last year or so to threats of removal (or actual removal), you’d understand. This goes far beyond communication. It’s more comparable to an IV of life-sustaining fluids.

At any rate, on his return that day, he began badgering me about putting him back on our cell plan. HIS choice, a month or so ago, was to get his own phone, a month-to-month deal, rather than pay us each month (which he seldom did) and to avoid any control I had over the phone (such as who and when he could call). Before he left detention, this very subject arose, and he was told “no”, he needed to keep the plan/phone he’d chosen. In his infinite teenage wisdom, of course.

Naturally, I told him “no” again. And he kept it up, as is his wont, arguing, getting more and more obstreperous, and finally said “Fine, call my juvenile officer, see if I care.” Ooookay.

So I did.

They called me back; they had no clue what was going on, because the paperwork hadn’t been filed, he hadn’t yet been assigned a caseworker, etc. My son has yet to meet with the individual in charge of community service, and I’m still looking at a bill for the public defender (see recent blog post).

You gotta love efficiency.

On the other hand, probably many kids, if not most, do have that brief “honeymoon” period – a few days or a week where they actually behave themselves, thoughts of their recent detention still providing food for thought. Oh, no – not my kid!

Mostly, since that minor getting-a-bit-out-of-control episode, he’s been following the rules. Mostly. He still needs reminders to hang up his towel and pick up his room, and he needs to be told to actually LOOK at that chore chart he requested. But he’s said nothing else about the phone – although he’s asked every adult he knows to co-sign a contract for him or put him on their plans.

Today he wanted to go see friends, for lunch, and was supposed to call at 12:30 to let me know about any other plans. He did, but had no answers. He was supposed to call back by 1:00. He did not. At 1:30, when I called him, he finally had an answer, and was told to be home at 4:00; he said, okay, be home at 5. Sigh. It took a few minutes, but I expect him home in a couple hours. Or not.

Guess it’s a wait-and-see period. And it’s not the rules; well, okay, it is, but the point is that you’d think a kid who’d been in detention for three weeks would be falling all over himself to behave, follow the rules, and be pleasant.

Apparently it doesn’t work that way.

So yesterday, my son walked the dogs – we have two, an aging yellow Lab and a youngish Sheltie mix. As he was coming back into our yard, our neighbor across the street let her two Shitzus outside.

Our Sheltie went nuts, lunging and trying to go play; at least, I thought it was play, his tail was wagging. I helped my son get them inside and told him to get them a drink out back; when he did, the Sheltie went over the fence and across the street.

Here’s where it gets sticky. The neighbor said my dog ran over there and she could “tell” he was attacking and not playing; my dog did bite one of hers, but I’m pretty sure he was simply herding and over-excited. He’s never attacked anyone or anything. The neighbor was screaming, I heard barking, and I ran over there.

Oh, and she shouted that she was going to call the police. I asked why.

We got our dog back, and I went to check on the one that was bitten. There was a puncture, I held the little guy while his “mom” cleaned the wound; he was calm and fine, as was the other one. When we finished, he ran off and hid under a bed, but that’s pretty normal – probably didn’t like the smell of the alcohol.

The neighbor was totally freaking out, talking and talking, saying she “knew” my dog was attacking and why would she lie about it and so on and so forth. I tried to calm her down, even found her vet’s phone number when she couldn’t see it on the open page, told her what I thought the vet would say, offered to pay for the vet visit if she wanted to bring the dog in, and assured her my dog’s shots were current.

She kept saying her husband was going to be really ticked and she showed me an axe or sledge hammer handle that he’d probably use on my dog, if he could.

When she called the vet, it sure sounded like they told her to wait and see, but she insisted on bringing the dog in; so she did. I saw her come home about 30 minutes later and went to see what happened.

Yes, the dog had a puncture and a little bruising; the vet cleaned the wound (again) and put on some Neosporin and told her to watch for signs of infection. For that, I asked for and was given the bill of $60. Okay, I get it; she was scared and worried and thinks her dogs are people. Not my thing, but whatever.

Oh, and she also talked about “neighbors” and how she didn’t want this to come between us. We’re not exactly close, but we do see each other outside from time to time, and visit on occasion. Okay, fine, whatever; I was actually planning on going back with a check and a bottle of wine.

Then the police pulled up. I opened the wine for myself. And I’m seriously considering getting the equivalent of that vet bill in pennies and leaving them on a pile on their front porch. Really.

I mean, what kind of people do this? And since when are the police supposed to act as animal control? After all of this, they call the police. Who, by the way, sent TWO patrol cars. Sheesh.

Yes, my dog got out and yes, my dog bit theirs. But I did the right thing by helping in a crisis, and offering to help further, and to pay the bill, and by having my dog’s shots up-to-date. Should I also be penalized by having the police at my door?

I should add that no, the police did nothing except ask what happened and to be shown the shot records; since my son’s numerous incidents with the police, we know most of the force and they’ve all met my dogs. They were, as always, courteous and professional.

Still, it’s something I didn’t need after this week. Seems like those who do try to do what’s right end up getting screwed. I fully expect neighborhood gossip, and probably a lawsuit.

Sigh.