A poor nurse decided to care for her four elderly neighbors after realizing they only had one another to rely on for household chores. After the last neighbor’s death, the nurse discovers the will they left behind.
Cassandra Myers was a poor nurse who worked at a local hospital. Although nurses are generally paid well in America, most of Cassandra’s salary went to paying off the loans of her late parents, leaving her with just enough to get by.
Cassandra lived in her ancestral home, which was situated in a quiet neighborhood. Her next-door neighbors were four elderly siblings who were in their 80s.
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Time after time, Cassandra would see the siblings struggle with their everyday chores. In their old age, they had to carry their groceries, clean their house and yard, take out the trash, and cook for themselves every day.
Realizing they needed help, Cassandra offered to help them every time she got home from her hospital shifts. The four sisters appreciated this and genuinely enjoyed Cassandra’s company.
“You are heaven sent, Cassandra,” Marie, the eldest of the sisters, once told her. “Will you at least allow us to pay you for your help?” she asked.
Cassandra shook her head. “Oh, no, Marie. I will not allow you to pay me! I do this because I care for you, not because I want any money in return. Really, don’t worry about it,” she replied.
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Every day, Cassandra helped them by cooking their meals and washing the dishes after they ate. She also helped them individually, arranging their maintenance medicines and helping them dress up.
One day, while they were having dinner together, Cassandra asked them, “Why didn’t you ever go to a nursing home? Surely, they can take better care of you compared to me.”
Clara, another sister said they did not trust nursing homes. “We wanted to spend the remainder of our lives together. If we were put in a nursing home, we wouldn’t be able to sleep in the same room, and we’ll have to deal with so many other people,” she explained.
“We would rather spend the rest of our days surrounded by genuine love and care. We never know what other people’s intentions are,” Mindy, the youngest of the sisters, added.
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Cassandra nodded, understanding where the sisters were coming from. “Well,” she told them. “You don’t have to worry. As long as I am able, you can count on me for help,” she smiled. “That’s what neighbors are for!”
“You are the best neighbor anyone could ask for,” Lisa, the second-eldest sibling, told her, reaching out to touch her hand.
No matter how tired Cassandra was every time she got home from the hospital, she made sure to visit the siblings. They ate a meal together, and she would take care of everything they needed before returning home to sleep.
Unfortunately, as time passed, the inevitable began to happen. One by one, the siblings passed away, leaving Cassandra to organize their funerals and mourning their loss.
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When the last of the sisters died, she cleaned their home and attended the final funeral, where there were no visitors aside from a lawyer who introduced herself as Attorney Abigail Smith.
“You must be Cassandra,” Abigail told her. “Thank you for taking care of the sisters all these years. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Cassandra gave her a tearful smile. “They were a delight to be with. I will miss all of them dearly.”
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The lawyer revealed that Cassandra needed to visit her office that same week because there was something she had to discuss with her. Although Cassandra was confused, she promised to visit the lawyer’s office the following day.
When she got there, the lawyer handed her a document. “Lisa, Clara, Mindy, and Marie each had children. I know you’ve never met them because they didn’t bother attending any of the funerals, but they live in nearby states. When the sisters realized their kids didn’t care much about them, they decided to change their will,” she explained.
“They left everything to you,” Attorney Abigail revealed. “In the document, you will see everything you will inherit from them, including money, jewelry, and the house they lived in.”
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Cassandra’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe that her neighbors had left their entire estate with her despite having children. “It can’t be! I don’t deserve all of these,” she said, shocked.
Attorney Abigail shrugged. “You do, Cassandra. You were a daughter to them more than their own children. They saw you as the rightful heir to their fortune,” she assured her.
Cassandra didn’t know what to think. She was shaking when she saw the document that clearly stated she was to receive the fortune the four sisters left behind. She didn’t know what to do with the money but immediately realized that it was more than enough to pay off the remaining debts of her late parents.
A couple of days after the meeting, the four sisters’ children started calling Attorney Abigail for the will reading. When she revealed that the will did not involve them, they all wanted to contest the will in court.
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However, before they could do that, Attorney Abigail said that each child would receive a letter in the mail from their mothers. Each letter contained the same message:
“My dear child,
You might be wondering why I left you with nothing. You know that I love you dearly and that I am happy that you were able to start a new life without me in a different state. I am proud of all your success, but I always wished you would take time off your busy schedule to visit me and spend the last of my days with me.
I was deeply hurt and offended by the fact that you never paid attention to me after you moved. I had wished you’d come each holiday, but you never did. So I decided to leave my fortune to someone who was there for me all the years you weren’t.
I hope you accept and understand this decision. I know you are capable of living life without my estate, the same way you have been living without me all these years. Love, mom.”
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The children received the letters on the same day. They messaged one another through a group chat and decided to withdraw the lawsuit. They realized how terrible they had been to their moms and how they did not deserve to receive anything from them.
Cassandra never met any of the sisters’ children, but on each of the women’s death anniversaries, she’d see beautiful fresh flowers on their graves. This made Cassandra smile, knowing that the sisters’ children finally decided to pay attention to their mothers in the only way they could.
What can we learn from this story?
- When you’re in the position to help someone, do it. Cassandra helped her elderly neighbors without expecting anything in return. In the end, her neighbors believed she was the rightful heir of their estate after realizing she cared for them more than their own children did.
- Spend time with your loved ones before it’s too late. When the sisters died, their children realized how much time they wasted neglecting their mothers. They regretted not spending time with them when they were alive and were left leaving bouquets on their graves every year because it was too late to rewrite the past.
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My Neighbors Persistently Tossed Their Dogs’ Waste into Our Yard – My Retaliation Was Severe
Sometimes, you reach a point where you have to stand your ground, and that’s exactly what happened to me. This story is about how I went from being the laid-back neighbor to someone who served up a slice of justice with a little extra something on the side.
My name’s Mandy, and let me start by saying that I’m not one to hold grudges. I’m a firm believer in “live and let live,” the kind of person who prefers to keep the peace and not sweat the small stuff.
I live in a small, quiet suburban neighborhood. You know the kind, where everyone waves at each other in the morning and you can leave your doors unlocked without a second thought. It’s the perfect place to raise my two kids.
Our home has a charming little garden out front, complete with a white picket fence—the whole package, really. But as idyllic as it sounds, even paradise can have a few thorns.
The Thompsons — John and Sarah — moved in next door about a year ago. They seemed nice enough at first. They were in their early 40s, two big dogs named Max and Daisy, and had no kids. We exchanged pleasantries, borrowed a cup of sugar here and there, and I even gave them some of my homemade chocolate chip cookies as a welcome gift.
You know, just your typical neighborly stuff. But after a few months, things started to change, and not for the better.
Those dogs quickly became the bane of my existence. Don’t get me wrong, I love animals, but these dogs had a habit that was driving me up the wall. They’d do their business right at the edge of their yard, but they didn’t stop there. No, the Thompsons had devised a little system.
They’d wait until they thought no one was looking, scoop up the mess, and then—get this—they’d toss it right over the fence into my garden. It started off as an occasional thing, but before long, I was finding piles of dog crap in my flower beds nearly every other day.
At first, I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. Who throws dog poop over a fence on purpose, right? I figured it had to be some kind of accident. So, I decided to address the issue directly, hoping a friendly chat would solve the problem.
One afternoon, as John and I were both out in our yards, I decided to bring it up.
“Hey, John,” I said with a smile, trying to keep things light, “I’ve noticed some dog poop in my garden lately. I think it might be from Max or Daisy. Could you maybe keep an eye on them when they’re outside?”
John turned to me, his face breaking into a tight-lipped smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. “Oh, I’m sure it’s not them. Maybe it’s your kids,” he said with a slight smirk, as if he were mocking me.
I was taken aback. My kids? Really? I wanted to argue, but I could see that John wasn’t in the mood to admit anything. I didn’t want to escalate things into a shouting match with my neighbor, so I decided to let it go—for the moment, at least.
But I knew I couldn’t just let this slide. They weren’t going to stop unless I did something about it, and confronting them directly hadn’t worked. So, I decided it was time for something a little more… creative. Something subtle, yet effective.
A plan started to form in my mind, and the more I thought about it, the more deliciously petty it seemed. If they were going to keep throwing their dogs’ crap into my yard, I was going to give them a taste of their own medicine—literally.
Now, I should mention that I’ve always been a pretty good baker. My chocolate chip cookies are legendary around here, so I figured it was time to put that reputation to good use. The plan was simple: I’d bake a batch of cookies, but with a little twist.
The next day, I gathered my supplies—flour, sugar, chocolate chips, and a little something extra. I’m not proud of what I did next, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I went out to my garden, put on a pair of gloves, and scooped up some of the offending material, sealing it in a bag.
Now, before you jump to conclusions, let me clarify. I wasn’t about to use actual dog poop in my baking. But I needed something that would get the message across.
Instead, I headed to the pet store and picked up a bag of the smelliest dog treats I could find. These little brown nuggets looked just like chocolate chips, but they had a distinctly unpleasant odor. Perfect. I mixed them in with the real chocolate chips, baked up a fresh batch of cookies, and let them cool.
As the cookies baked, the scent wafted through my kitchen. The aroma of chocolate mixed with the pungent smell of dog treats created an odd, unsettling combination. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was exactly what I needed. I could barely stomach it, but I pushed through, knowing the Thompsons were about to get a taste of their own medicine.
Once the cookies had cooled, I carefully packed them into a shiny, decorative tin. To add a final touch, I wrote a note in my best handwriting:
“To the best neighbors, enjoy these fresh-baked cookies! – The Wilsons”
I chuckled to myself as I imagined their reaction, but I wasn’t done yet. Timing was everything. The next day, I waited patiently until I saw Mrs. Thompson head out, likely on one of her daily errands. With the coast clear, I darted across our lawns and stealthily placed the tin of cookies on their porch. Then, I retreated to my house, positioning myself near the window so I could observe the aftermath.
It didn’t take long for the chaos to begin. That evening, while watering my garden, I heard a commotion erupt from the Thompson household. The dogs were barking like mad, their deep barks echoing through the quiet neighborhood. Amid the noise, I caught the unmistakable sound of Mr. Thompson shouting, “What the hell is wrong with these cookies?!”
I couldn’t resist the grin that spread across my face. This was better than I’d imagined. I knew they’d discover that something was off, but I hadn’t anticipated just how quickly it would all unfold.
Several hours later, I overheard the Thompsons having a heated discussion in their backyard. Their voices were low, but they carried clearly across the fence.
“Those Wilsons gave us some kind of sick prank cookies!” Mrs. Thompson hissed, her voice filled with anger and embarrassment.
“They must’ve known about the poop,” Mr. Thompson replied, his tone a mix of frustration and guilt. “What are we going to do?”
“Just keep quiet,” she said, her voice firm. “We don’t want the whole neighborhood knowing we’ve been throwing dog crap over the fence.”
I nearly dropped my watering can. There it was—the confirmation I had been waiting for. They were guilty, and they knew it. And now, they realized that I knew too.
But here’s the best part: a few days later, something miraculous happened. The dog poop stopped appearing in my yard. It was as if by magic. My little act of revenge had worked, and I couldn’t have been more pleased.
Yet, the story didn’t end there. A few weeks later, our neighborhood hosted a BBQ, and the Thompsons showed up. They seemed subdued, keeping mostly to themselves and avoiding eye contact with me. But I wasn’t about to let them off the hook that easily.
“Hey, John! Sarah!” I called out cheerfully, waving them over with a plate of fresh cookies in hand. “I’ve got some more cookies for the party. Want to try one?”
Their faces went pale as they caught sight of the cookies. They mumbled something about being full and quickly excused themselves, practically fleeing in the opposite direction. I chuckled to myself as I watched them scurry away. The rest of the neighbors happily devoured the cookies, unaware of the inside joke between me and the Thompsons.
As the evening wore on, I overheard some of the neighbors chatting about the Thompsons.
“Have you noticed how quiet their dogs have been lately?” one neighbor asked.
“Yeah, and their yard’s been spotless,” another added.
It seemed my little act of creative revenge had not only solved my problem but had also reformed the Thompsons’ behavior. They were now the model neighbors, all thanks to a little ingenuity and a lot of nerve.
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