I lived peacefully in my neighborhood and made verbal deals with my neighbors when alterations had to be made. What I didn’t expect was things changing drastically when the neighbors moved. They left me with a problematic spitfire of a woman whom karma dealt with swiftly!

Living in my little house on Maple Street had always brought me a sense of peace. The backyard was my sanctuary, a place where I could unwind after a long day. Soon after moving in, I decided to build a fence along the back to provide some much-needed privacy.

To avoid the expense of a surveyor, I talked it over with my neighbors at the time, Jim and Susan. They were friendly and easygoing, and we agreed on a spot for the fence. It wasn’t exactly on the property line, but it was close enough for all of us.

We shook hands, and I got to work. That fence was my pride and joy. I paid for all the materials and spent several weekends constructing it. My neighbors were happy with the arrangement since they didn’t have to contribute a cent.

It was a win-win situation. But, about a year ago, my sweet neighbors sold their house. Enter Kayla, a new fancy neighbor from the big city. Before they left, Jim told me that Kayla was a realtor by profession. In twelve years, she’d managed to flip eight houses!

She was different from us local folk as she was always in formal blouses, skirts, and heels, and held a disdainful glance. The new neighbor always boasted about how much she loved her new home and planned to stay forever.

But, about six months after she moved in, I noticed a man with a clipboard walking around the neighborhood and my backyard. He appeared to be a land surveyor as he was measuring things and sticking little flags in the ground.

The next day, Kayla knocked on my door and changed things forever. She showed up with a stack of papers in her hand and a determined look on her face. “Hi, I’m Kayla. Do you have a minute?” she introduced herself with her business card.

“Sure, what’s up?” I replied, curious about the papers she was holding.

“I had a survey done, and it turns out your fence is nine inches onto my property,” she said, holding up the documents. “I’m going to need you to either move it or pay me for the land it’s on.”

I was taken aback. “I built that fence based on an agreement with the previous owners,” I explained. “We didn’t get a survey, but we all agreed on the spot.”

Kayla shook her head, clearly unimpressed. “That might be how things work out here, but where I’m from, we follow the rules,” she demanded. “You need to move the fence or compensate me for the encroachment.”

“Besides, the thing is an eyesore and looks awful and old. If you refuse to take it down or move it, I will be forced to take action and you’ll regret it.”

I was shocked by her attitude and tried to reason with her, explaining the handshake deal I had with Jim and Susan. But she wouldn’t budge. Instead, she threatened to take me to court, and I realized I had no choice.

The next day, I took down the fence to avoid having conflict since I didn’t have any proof of the deal I made with my previous neighbors. My heart was sore as I unscrewed the panels, stacked them by the garage, and pulled up the posts.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, and the work was grueling, but I didn’t want any legal trouble. What happened next is something I couldn’t have anticipated.

About a week later, Kayla was back at my door and this time, she was in tears! “What have you done?!” she questioned, her voice trembling.

Confused, I asked, “What do you mean?”

“Please, return your old fence. When can you rebuild it? I’ll even pay you any amount of money for it because I need the fence back,” she explained.

“I thought you wanted it gone,” I replied.

“I did, but I have a dog, Duke. He’s a German Shepherd mix, and I can’t leave him outside without a fence,” she revealed. “He’ll run away, or worse, he might get hit by a car. Plus, he chews up everything inside the house!”

I felt a twinge of sympathy for her, but I also remembered how forceful she had been about the fence. “I’m sorry, Kayla, but I’m not going to rebuild it. I don’t want any more trouble, and the best way to avoid that is to not have a fence near your property.”

My neighbor looked desperate. “Please, I can’t keep Duke inside all day; he’s destroying my furniture. I NEED that fence!”

“I’m sorry, but no,” I said firmly. “I don’t want to risk any more issues.”

Kayla left, defeated.

But karma wasn’t done with her. Over the next few weeks, she tried taking matters into her own hands. She put up a flimsy bamboo fence, but Duke tore through it like it was tissue paper! Kayla had to stay home more often, and it affected her work and social life.