When my old neighbors moved out, I didn’t expect much to change. We’d made a simple, friendly agreement about the backyard fence—no survey, just trust. But when Kayla, the new neighbor, moved in, things took a turn. A few months later, she came to me with survey papers claiming the fence was nine inches on her property. She insisted I either move it or pay her, despite the prior handshake deal. Wanting to avoid conflict, I reluctantly took the fence down myself.
Not long after, Kayla returned—this time in tears. Her dog, Duke, had been using the fence as a boundary. Without it, he chewed up her furniture and kept escaping. She begged me to rebuild the fence, even offering to pay for it. But after how she treated me, I politely declined. She tried everything to fix the issue herself—flimsy bamboo fencing, trainers, tie-outs—but nothing worked. Duke kept wreaking havoc on her home and schedule.
Eventually, Kayla’s life began to unravel. The dog destroyed her belongings, interrupted her work, and even caused chaos during a garage sale where she lost her wallet. As weeks passed, she grew more desperate and exhausted, repeatedly asking for help, but I continued to set boundaries. I offered advice, but I wasn’t going to rebuild a fence that had become a legal issue.
The stress finally pushed me to sell my home and move. I informed the new owners about Kayla’s situation, and they were fine with it. In my new neighborhood, I built a fresh start—complete with the old fence panels I brought along. Looking back, I realized the situation taught me a valuable lesson about boundaries, both literal and personal. And yes—karma handled the rest.