Why do small dogs have such annoying barks? Not only does the shrill of their yapping grind my nerves like someone’s shifting the gears of a standard transmission without applying the clutch, but the sheer intensity of the mongrel’s yipping, building to a lengthy crescendo, after which the annoyance starts all over again is enough to land me in the county’s asylum.
Don’t get me wrong. I love all types of dogs as much as anyone; however, when their insistent racket occurs constantly, like by the runt who lives with my new neighbors next door, my sanity—whatever is left of it—extends to the very limit.
Every time I clang a pot or dish in my kitchen, where an exit leads into a back hallway and stairs adjacent to where the animal lives, this dog has to start barking as if the sky was falling. Any noise is liable to get the critter wound up like a mainspring.
How does one tell a dog’s owner to shut their animal’s trap without causing bad feelings? I’m not one to call the authorities and make a complaint like my nemeses, the neighbors downstairs, did to me. Fortunately, they moved out finally.
The other day, I heard a small mutt outside of my apartment, going off like a siren. The dog got so raveled, it sounded like a terrified woman, screaming, “Oh my God,” repeatedly for at least a half-dozen times. I looked out the window to see if the lady needed help, only to see an ugly cur, bearing its teeth at a squirrel while its owner was holding the nuisance back on its leash.
When I moved into this place, going on twenty-four years ago, no dogs were allowed. Tenants didn’t have to worry about stepping in dog excrement, to put it politely. Neither did we have to put up with habitual barking at odd hours of the day or night. It was just recently within the past couple of years that the new owners of this complex started allowing them. Methinks it’s time for me to move out.
There goes that damned mongrel next door again, shrieking like the building is on fire. Perhaps it heard my aggravated tapping on the keyboard as I’m composing this tirade from my dining-room table.
While looking for memes or something related to my diatribe, I found the one at top and the following caricature on Google, for which the latter might do the trick to let the neighbors know anonymously, their dog is a pain in my butt. Maybe I’ll print it and tape the cartoon onto their door in the back hallway.
And another thing: why is it when someone’s typing about something that annoys them, they pound on the keys while entering their text? That’s like using all capital letters to indicate shouting, I guess. Life is full of mysteries.
Stayed indoors for most of today, as it was gloomy and raining. Got some chores done and photos sorted out. Put on my Fitbit just to see how many steps I took while walking around, which included a trip to the cleaners, supermarket, and the mall for some Christmas gifts. I walked close to 3,000 steps, which totaled 1.5 miles/2.4 kilometers traveled.
Still sticking to my diet, I dropped a few pounds this past week. Nineteen more are left to shed for reaching my goal. That’s going to be hard with the upcoming holidays and all the goodies therefrom. The Fitbit also registered 175 kcal burned today. Oh boy, I can eat an extra chocolate-chip cookie and not feel guilty.
Thanks for stopping by for a visit, and for your continued support.