Entitled Neighbor Buried My Pond, I Showed Him Why You Dont Cross an Older Woman
I’ve lived in this cozy house for twenty years, raising three kids and now spoiling seven grandkids with summer splashes and weekend barbecues. The heart of our home was my grandfather’s hand‑dug pond—a place of laughter, lazy afternoons, and fond family memories. Everything was perfect until Brian moved in next door five years ago. From day one he complained about the frogs’ “lullabies” and blamed every mosquito on my pond, despite the junk heap festering in his own yard.
When I went to visit my sister out of state, I never dreamed I’d return to find my beloved pond reduced to a muddy patch of dirt. Neighbors told me Brian had hired a crew to fill it in, paperwork and all. My heart sank, but I refused to be the helpless old lady he assumed I was. First, I called my granddaughter Jessie and remembered the wildlife camera we’d set up in the oak tree. Sure enough, the footage showed Brian himself directing the workers.
Armed with proof, I phoned the state environmental agency and reported the destruction of a protected habitat—after all, I had officially registered the pond years ago for its rare fish. Within days, agents were at Brian’s door, slapping him with a $50,000 fine for violating environmental laws. His face turned ashen when he realized his “favor” to the neighborhood would cost him dearly.
