What is WRONG with people?

The boys and I were on the way home from the park the other day. They were on their bikes, and we were headed up a gradual incline which means that I was pushing, and they were whining. It was about 11am (that's important).

Well, after a block and a half of this, all of a sudden a little girl ran into the road. Like - little - as in, 18 months! She was just making words like "pink" and "mommy" and "there" - all in baby babble, of course. Luckily, it was a very infrequently traveled street.

Me: Ooooooh! No, no, no, nooooo - sweetie! Go to your house!
Baby: Hi!
Me: Honey - where is your mommy?
Baby: oer deh (over there, pointing to brown house)
Me: Go get your mommy!
Baby: aaahhh, eeehhh, basset (something, something, basket - she was carrying a purple easter basket, complete with eggs and plastic grass and half eaten chocolate sucker - in August)

Well, I couldn't just let her stand in the middle of the road, and she wasn't moving. So, I grabbed the boys off of their bikes, and we snatched her up from them middle of the road, and took her to the brown house where I knocked on the door - hard. (While I waited, I took in the baby and the surroundings: dirt - no grass, bricks laying everywhere, no rail on the porch, no fence around the dirt, tampon applicators on the ground as if the dog had ripped apart a garbage bag - eeewww, baby with an obviously sagging diaper that hadn't been changed in hours, at least six inches of of dirt on the bottom of the baby's PJ bottoms, bare feet covered with dirt and dust, pathetic.)

Knocking.
Nothing.
I knocked again, and again, and again.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
I walked around to the back yard and yelled in hopes of finding someone who had just lost track of a little person.
Nothing.

So, really, it seemed like she had come out of the white house next door, and lo and behold here wanders two other kids (4 and 18 months) from out of the white house, also without parental supervision. So, I dragged the first little girl and the two new little girls over to the white house and pounded on that door. It was answered.
Me: Does this one belong to you?
Young Mom: No, she lives next door.
Me: Do you know where her parents are?
Young Mom: No. Her mom usually works during the day and her grandma takes care of her.

Oh, great. So now I'm thinking that granny has fallen and can't get up, or she's had a stroke, or whatever.
So, young mom decides to go into the back yard and knock on the back door.
Nothing.
Young Mom: Well, you can just leave her with me. I'm sure that they will come looking for her when they get back.
Me: (thinking to myself - I don't frickin' know you! I'm not leaving a baby with someone I don't know! Judas - I wouldn't leave a baby with most of the people that I DO know!)
At this point, Young Mom is tired of the whole thing and goes back to her house. Gee thanks for the help.

I went back to the front door and banged and banged again.
Nothing.
I opened the door wide enough to get my face in, and I hollered into the pig stye at the top of my lungs - several times.
Nothing.
I didn't dare go in because there was a dog guarding the door. He was probably very friendly, but I'm not stupid.

When Young Mom came out and offered to take care of the baby again, I broke the news to her: I had already called the police.
Yes - they were on their way. Yes - they were alarmed. Yes - they seemed to take forever (but they were probably only three minutes).
The Young Mom came back and finally volunteered to go IN to the house. After all, she knew the dog and the people.
She came back out and said that she found someone that looked like she was sleeping. Or at least she was breathing. But Young Mom didn't know who it was. Granny? Mommy? Babysitter?
It didn't really matter, because Officer Thurgood finally arrived.

After giving him the low-down, he really pounded on the door. Serious pounding. I'm actually not sure that I could have physically pounded that hard. Well, someone finally came to the door. The mom. About age 26.

Officer Thurgood: Is this your daughter?
Irresponsible Mom: Oh, Ro! What are you doing outside (feigning concern). I'm so sorry! I was asleep!
[Remember when I said that 11am was important? Are you friggin kidding me?]
Me (totally out of line): I'VE BEEN KNOCKING ON YOUR DOOR AND YELLING INTO YOUR HOUSE FOR 20 MINUTES! (yes - I was yelling at her - in ALL CAPS)
Irresponsible Mom: Oh, I was asleep! I was asleep!
Me (to myself): It's called a HANGOVER, bitch!
Officer Thurgood: Are there any other kids in the house.
Irresponsible Mom: No, just her.
Officer Thurgood: Has she tried to get out of the house before?
Irresponsible Mom: Yeah. She can open the doors by herself, even if we have a kid lock.
Me (to myself): It's called a chain you idiot!
Me (outloud to cop): Can I go now? I don't really need to hear this crap, do I?
Officer Thurgood: Yes (with a look on his face that said PLEASE GO NOW and stop yelling at this stupid woman)

We put on our bike helmets and headed home. I don't know what happened in the end, but my friend at work (who knows something about these things) says that - by law - a report MUST be filed with DCFS.
I've now driven past that house about 20 times just to make sure that the baby is not in the middle of the road.

Stupid bitch.