First off, becoming mother has made me realize that for most of my life I have valued SLEEP (preferably 7-8 hours a night, thanks) as an inalienable right. On an infinitely higher level than any other claims I think I should have, like access to clean drinking water or universal health care.
Sleep, give me SLEEP!
And it is no secret that falling all over myself for dogs really isn’t my jam. It probably doesn’t take much effort to imagine just how quickly my temper goes through the roof (rest assured, it’s warp speed) whenever a neighbor dog decides to go all out barking (ahem, “RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF!!!……..RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF!” maddeningly identical intervals of 5, followed by an ever so brief pause, over and over and over – CLEARLY THIS DOG IS AN INSANE ROBOT) at 1:00am, only to be joined by another dog a yard or two away with a more uneven “ROWLF….ROWLF………ROWLF” cadence (it appears this dog’s more uneven response illustrates that it is capable of thought and discernment, and I have determined that – if possible – this larger sounding, likely more useful dog is on my side, telling the other yapper to shut up OH WHO IS INSANE NOW?!?!).
Yes, we have the Sandra Boynton book Doggies in our house, so no need to be “funny” and give it to A so I can read it to her BECAUSE I ALREADY DO. I’m quite well versed in the different yaps of dogs, thanks.
And yes, A is kind of obsessed with dogs (or “DAHH-wuh-gus” in a deep southern drawl like she’s channeling my Georgia grandmother). We have sat and watched “funny” dog videos on YouTube together (what has my life become).
Back to the neighbor dogs. To give you a better idea of the situation (to remind all you animal lovers of the objective realities of this world), this is what it looks like at 1:00am WHEN I JUST NEED SOME SLEEP, FOR THE LOVE:
Added to that reality, the way our backyards come together forms a sort of giant misshapen asterisk so I can’t tell for certain which house is home to the offending canines… but MY identity would be glaringly obvious if I decided to, say, scream out of the bedroom window or catapult poison medieval-style in the direction of the barks… which seemed like an awesome idea earlier this week IN THE MIDDLE OF MY SLEEPING HOURS.
Upon the advice of (my own) counsel (to myself), any details on any sort of resolution/closure to this situation/crisis will likely be vague., so please don’t hold your breath for a Part Two to this saga.