A week later, Patrice was back at my door, tears streaming down her face. “What did you do?!” she cried, her voice shaking.
Confused, I asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Please, put the fence back. When can you rebuild it? I’ll pay whatever you want—I need it back,” she pleaded.
“I thought you wanted it gone,” I replied.
“I did, but I have a dog, Duke, a German Shepherd mix. I can’t leave him outside without a fence,” she explained. “He’ll run off or get hit by a car. And he’s wrecking my house inside!”