Sally Breslin: My Life: BRING ON THE FURRY CAMPERS!

Nothing is scarier than receiving a note in your mailbox informing you that a registered letter from the town was attempted to be delivered to you but no one was home to sign for it...on a Saturday.

That meant I had to sit and wonder all weekend what the town wanted.

Believe me, a million possibilities ran through my mind – everything from my house being taken by eminent domain so the town could build a public swimming pool on my land (my constantly soggy basement would make a great starting point) – to someone filing a complaint against me for breaking some obscure ordinance, like not feeding squirrels on Sundays.

As it turned out, the letter dealt with something I never would have anticipated...the woman who owns the property directly behind mine is seeking a variance so she can open a dog-boarding facility and a canine camp.

Canine camp? I immediately envisioned a bunch of dogs sleeping out in “pup” tents and sitting around a bonfire, toasting marshmallows.

I also pictured my own two dogs peering through the fence, watching the other dogs and barking and whining because they’d want to join them, kind of like little kids who beg their parents to send them to summer camp because all of their friends are going.

Curious, I went to the zoning-board meeting, mainly because I wanted to know how many canines the woman was planning to have at her camp. Three? Thirty? The equivalent of a doggy Woodstock?

As it turned out, the zoning board was short by two members that night, so they, before the woman’s variance even could be discussed, asked her if she minded having only three members present to vote on it, or if she wanted to postpone the meeting for another two weeks until a full board would be there. She opted to postpone the meeting until March 27.

One of my neighbors and I, muttering about how we’d wasted a perfectly good evening driving into town for nothing, walked out to the parking lot together...and spotted the woman standing by her car. We practically sprinted over to her.

“I’ll be more than happy to answer any of your questions or concerns,” she said when we told her we'd been hoping to get some information about her proposed kennel and camp.

The first thing I asked was how many dogs she planned to board.

She said “only” about 15, but it could go as high as 20 if she had a bunch of small, Chihuahua-sized dogs sign up...because they wouldn’t take up as much space.

My neighbor, however, didn’t mince words. He told the woman that no one in the neighborhood was in favor of her dog-boarding facility and the equivalent of a lynch mob probably would show up to protest at the next meeting.

“And if your request for a variance passes and your dogs make a lot of noise,” he warned her, “we’ll call the cops.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re concerned about the noise? I never even thought about that as a reason why people would disapprove!”

She had to be kidding. I felt like telling her that if she wasn’t familiar with just how noisy dogs could get, I’d lend her my two for a day.

“You know that farm next to you?” my neighbor asked her. “Well, they used to have a donkey there that brayed all the time. It drove us crazy it was so loud – and I live way over on the hill! We kept calling the police to complain about it.”

“You could hear it way up there?” she asked him.

“Yeah, the sound really carries in that area,” he said.

“So you want to punish ME because of a loud donkey?” she asked, frowning.

My neighbor rolled his eyes.

The woman then asked me where I lived. I told her I was up on the hill directly behind her property.

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t be able to hear anything up there,” she said. Before I could comment, however, she added, “But I can hear your dogs now and then, you know.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. I said, “Well, if you can hear my two, then I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to hear your 15!”

She then informed us she’d already built the kennel, along with an acre of hiking trails for the dogs – and that she was doing this all on her own, with no help from anyone. She even gave us her business card – already neatly printed with the info about the canine camp.

Talk about being overly confident that the board will vote in her favor...

“I don’t understand what the problem is anyway,” she said. “The whole area is zoned as open-space and farmland, so why do I need a variance to board dogs?”

“Because dogs aren’t farm animals,” my neighbor said.

“And because you’re opening a business, not planting corn,” I pointed out.

She just stared blankly at us.

I still haven’t figured out if the woman actually was as clueless about everything as she led us to believe she was, or if she just was toying with us.

At any rate, I’ll find out on the 27th if I’m going to be sharing my space with a bunch of furry campers in the near future.

That is, if one of the zoning-board members doesn’t end up suffering from a sudden attack of appendicitis the night before the meeting.

And if the variance does pass, maybe it won’t be so bad after all. I mean, at least I’ll have a place practically on my back doorstep where I can send my dogs if I want some time all to myself now and then.

Trouble is, once my two troublemakers get there, I’m pretty sure my neighbors will be speed-dialing the cops.

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