I love dogs. I would venture to say that I love dogs more than most. I ogle people’s dogs as they walk down the street. I would gladly hang out in dog parks, leering and talking to them like an old man you avoid in a playground. So, I really like dogs a lot. As you read, please remember this.
Sometime last year, my roommate and I were coming home at about 2am. We saw a dog on its own heading down the street. Thinking it might be our neighbor Linda’s dog Bruno, we rang her doorbell despite the late hour. The family, as it turns out, was already up, aware of the fact that the dog was missing. We helpfully pointed them to his trail and they recovered him a short time later.
In retrospect, I kind of wish we hadn’t done that. I hate my neighbor’s dog.
Linda leaves Bruno, a junkyard-looking, German Shepherd, outside most of the time. He uses this time constructively by barking at every single man, woman, child, car, cat, twig and leaf that crosses his path. This is ridiculous because they have a privacy fence, so Bruno is usually making a wild guess at the nature of his enemy. Yet on he goes, woof-roo-roo-rooing at all hours of the day and night.
Bruno especially likes to bark, it seems, when I would like to take a nap. For instance, today. Around noon, I decided that I could afford to take an hour nap after a late night out last night. There is no barking. Within minutes of my closing my eyes, the woof-roo-roo-roo starts. It’s no so much that he barks, but that he barks with the exact same bark every time. Woof-roo-roo-roo. Woof-roo-roo-roo. Eventually, I just sit there timing the pauses between the barks and thinking of things I could throw into the yard.
Did I mention there are now three dogs? Earlier this year, Linda had a dog named Cici, a young, extremely cute female dog. Much to Linda’s shock (and nearly my mother’s, but that’s a whole different story that I’ll write about tomorrow), Cici delivered five squirming little puppies into the world. Unsurprisingly, they look much like Bruno. Linda, at the urging of her grandsons that conveniently don’t live at the house, kept two of the puppies - Napo and Oso. After they were weaned, she got rid of Cici and put the two pups in the back yard with Bruno. They now bark constantly, just like their father.
These are seriously the worst creatures I could ever imagine. My building has a car park in the back, a glorified driveway, but I like to think it keeps the crackheads from breaking into my car. In an average week, I probably come and go from my car maybe about 20 times, and yet to Napo and Oso, it is always the first and most offensive time. Despite the fact that I know their names and speak nicely to them, they stand on Linda’s deck and call me ‘harlot’ and any other mean things a young dog can think to say. Literally every time. Sometimes Napo, the nicer of the two, looks like he might just let me go on my way, but then his bossy brother comes up on the porch and the rioting begins.
This is such a long post because I’m a little afraid to admit the following item: A number of months ago, someone sent a card into PostSecret that said something like, “I have already purchased the poison for my neighbor’s dog.” And while I would never and could never do anything to these vile animals (made this way by their owner’s neglect and encouragement), that doesn’t prevent me from speculative wondering about whether Linda’s neighbor on the other side might have written it. Or fantasizing about someone opening the gate one night. Or wanting to time them so I can call the cops using Chicago’s new dog barking ordinance.
Instead, I will remember that I only have to live next to these creatures for about 20 more days. I will remember that their mother trained them to act in this manner. And I will remember to check the yard next door before I move into my new place. Dogs, I love, but sometimes their owners make them unloveable.
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