Cynthia J. Simmons

My neighbor hit my porch railing with his trailer, then told me my dog was responsible for the damage. I was standing on the steps holding Nellie's leash when it happened. Nellie is my three-year-old beagle mix. We'd just come back from a walk when my neighbor, Rick, started backing a small utility trailer into his driveway. His driveway runs right beside my porch. There's a low wooden railing between them. I heard the trailer scrape, then a loud crack. One of the railing posts tilted sideways. Rick got out, looked at the damage, and said, "Your dog made me swerve." Nellie was standing beside my leg. She hadn't gone anywhere near his truck. I told him he needed to fix the railing. He pointed at a scrape on his trailer. "Actually, you need to pay for that. Your dog lunged at me." I asked when that had supposedly happened. "Right before I hit the post. She came at the truck." Nellie had been on a short leash the entire time. I hadn't even moved from the steps. Rick said he'd get an estimate for his trailer and send it to me. I said I wasn't paying for damage he caused while backing up. He laughed. "Fine. I'll tell my insurance your dog attacked my vehicle." Then he took pictures of my porch, including one of Nellie sitting quietly beside me.

I heard my cat crying from inside a moving truck. The driver told me she'd be fine until we got to the new apartment. I was moving across town last Saturday. My cat, Sylvie, is a nine-year-old gray-and-white tabby who hates unfamiliar noises, so I'd put her in a carrier inside the bathroom. The door was shut. I'd taped a note to it that said, "CAT INSIDE. DO NOT OPEN." I'd also told the moving crew that I would transport her myself. For the first hour, everything went smoothly. Then I went to get my car keys and noticed the bathroom door standing open. Sylvie and her carrier were gone. I hurried outside and heard a faint meow coming from the truck. One of the movers had carried her out with the boxes. I asked the driver, Warren, to open the back immediately. He said they were almost finished loading and didn't want to rearrange anything. "She's a cat," he said. "She can handle a short ride." I told him the cargo area wasn't a place for a live animal, and that nobody had permission to touch her. He pointed at his inventory sheet. "We're here to move your stuff. That's what we're doing." I stood in front of the truck and told him it wasn't going anywhere until I had Sylvie back. He pulled out his phone. "Then I'll have to charge you for the delay."