Handled the bait again.
Then pushed the bowl toward the enclosure opening.
The Homeowner understood enough.
He stepped outside.
The rear door clicked.
The HOA President spun.
For half a second, panic crossed her face.
Then it disappeared beneath irritation.
“What are you doing home?”
The Homeowner stared.
“In my house?”
She stood quickly.
“This is an authorized HOA animal inspection.”
“No.”
Her posture became rigid.
“Excuse me?”
“No inspection was scheduled.”
“I don’t require your personal approval for emergency animal-welfare concerns.”
The Homeowner looked toward the bowl.
“What did you put in there?”
“Nothing.”
“I watched you.”
She glanced at the house.
The camera beneath the porch roof sat above her.
Her eyes passed beneath it without recognition.
“You need to control that dog.”
The Homeowner looked at her.
“What dog?”
She pointed toward the wooden enclosure.
“That one.”
The Homeowner almost smiled.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the absurdity had finally become undeniable.
“There’s no dog in there.”
The HOA President scoffed.
“I know what I’ve heard.”
“From where?”
“Residents have complained for months.”
“About barking?”
“Yes.”
The Homeowner nodded slowly.
“And that convinced you to break into my yard?”
“I did not break in.”
“You used a key I never gave you.”
“This is association property access.”
“No.”
The HOA President stepped closer.
Her voice sharpened.
“You have received multiple warnings.”
“About a dog that does not exist.”
“Stop playing games.”
The Homeowner raised his phone.
“I’m not playing anything.”
She saw the screen.
Live camera feed.
Her own image beside the bowl.
The color in her face changed.
Only slightly.
Then she recovered.
“You cannot record an HOA officer during official duties.”
“My cameras record my backyard.”
“That does not mean you can use footage out of context.”
The Homeowner looked toward the bowl.
“Context?”
He moved one step closer.
“Tell me exactly what you put in there.”
“Dog deterrent.”
The answer came too quickly.
The Homeowner stopped.
“What?”