I fail to answer.
Message: "What are you doing back there? Are you locked up? Are you hiding? I'm at the front house. I'm taking the dog for a walk. Come outside." he says.
Bark Bark. An adorable Golden Retriever runs up my steps and lurches against my gate. Bang.
Knock knock. I don't answer.
"Charmaine" she says from the alley. (It's my neighbor this time.) I go outside.
"Can you believe this guy? Our neighbor cut one branch from his tree. The only branch whose removal doesn't allow light to spill onto our little garden below. That schmuck."
"Let's call the city again," I say. "But I'm afraid we won't win this time. The tree no longer interferes with the powerlines. How did he manage to correct the problem and STILL not give us what we want? Fucker."