Shelter-In-Place Day: 13

So, my neighbors, who live across the street, their adult sons who don’t actually live with them, but sometimes sleep in their garage, have been showing up this past week with an extra large Uhaul truck. They leave with the truck early in the morning, are gone all day, and return some time late in the afternoon. Today, they decided to park their huge truck directly across the street from my front door. Rosee, who barks at all loud noises and unknown vehicles on her street, started barking. The son driving the vehicle literally leaned out of his open car window as he was parking the truck and yelled and cussed at my dog because she was barking. Imagine, a grown man yelling and cussing at my dog who is in her own house. This guy was yelling so loud that even though I was working in my living room, with headphones on and my music turned up so loud that I couldn’t even hear my own television, I could hear him. At first I thought that someone was outside fighting, what with all of the cuss words being thrown around. So, I turned off my music and went to my front door where I see this crazy man practically threatening my dog. Of course, I go outside and stand on my porch and ask him “Why are you yelling at my dog?” This just redirects his attention to me and he starts yelling and cussing at me. I tell him she’s a dog in her own house and she can do whatever she wants, so stop yelling at my dog. Then he gets really crazy and starts ranting about how he didn’t know dogs had feelings, and didn’t I know that dogs can only see in black and white, and so on. I rolled my eyes at him and went back inside.

I ended up telling my mom about what happened and she went across the street to talk to the actual owners of the house, you know the parents. Of course, they’re not home or they’re busy. (They always are. . . ) So, my mom talks to the other son that had been with the one that was yelling at Rosee and me. This guy was incredible! He denied everything, said that I was the liar, and that I was the one who started the argument and “confronted” them. I said of course I confronted them, the guy was cussing at my house and dog and threatening us!

My mom came back home and as fuming as I was at the entire situation, a nice walk with Rosee, Simon, and the family helped me to calm down. (The milkshake my mom bought me didn’t hurt either.) By the end of the night the Uhaul truck had moved so that it wasn’t parked directly across from my house, and I haven’t heard a peep out of the neighbors since.

Morale of my long rant: Don’t yell at dogs in their own houses . . . because they are dogs in their own houses.

Also, don’t be afraid to stand up for your dog. This kind of seems to be a running theme throughout our blog here at Play Hard, Bark Often. Being Rosee and Simon’s owners have certainly forced us here to confront people who don’t understand that not all dogs are perfectly behaved and quiet little angels, and that’s okay as long as we, as their owners, are constantly working with them to be better. Being a dog owner is work, though rewarding work. Rosee is seven years old and we still have to work on her manners every time we go on a walk. Simon, now at the wise old age of eight, still gets too excited anytime we put on our walking shoes and starts to hump his bed – a work in progress certainly.

Truth is, I don’t need my dogs to be perfect. I just need them to be happy (and healthy, but that’s a whole other blog post just waiting to be written).

So take your perfect and imperfect dogs (or whatever animal you have!) and give them a cuddle from us here at Play Hard, Bark Often.

Sending you happy and healthy thoughts, and I hope your neighbors are nicer than mine!

(And next time I post, it’ll be something much happier. . .)

A Horrifying Haunt

“It’s a hard life when you don’t even feel comfortable in your own house.”

Said me.

It was dark and stormy night. No, wait. It was sunny? That’s right. And the middle of the afternoon. A nice lazy, sunny afternoon with temperate weather and the birds, thankfully, being quiet so as not to wake the sleepy pups. (The pups that had finally laid down to sleep after an hour walk that morning and a never-ending wrestling match on the living room floor afterwards. I digress.) Theresa and I were sitting in our front room, doing some work, when all of a sudden we heard it. That slight jingling glint that accompanies my worst nightmares. It was the sound of dog tags that belong on the little black and brown dog that lives just around the corner from us. What causes the nightmare-inducing terror you ask? Well, let me tell you. It is the fact that this dog, when he (or she) gets out of his house he makes a beeline straight for our front door, and I literally mean our Front Door. This dog, whenever he gets loose (which is quite a lot), runs as fast as his little legs can carry him over to our door and proceeds to attack it because he knows Rosee will be on the other side of it. Rosee, who hears him come by now of course, is right at the door barking her head off.

The whole episode is

terribly,

frightfully,

scarily . . . annoying!

It’s annoying.

This dog used to just try to pee on our lawn (which he still does, and the poop is a nice—meaning not—new addition). He then graduated to barking at our front window at which Rosee would perch and bark at him. He quickly promoted himself to actually running into our flowerbed in front of said window in order to try and get to Rosee through it. Finally, he has reached where he is now, which is coming right up to the screen door itself and attempt to break his way through in order to get to Rosee. (And I say Rosee because Simon is not as territorially minded as she is, and honestly he just doesn’t really care much about other dogs in front of the house.)

It’s annoying. (Feeling a theme yet?)

What’s worse is that the offending dog’s owners don’t seem to really care about his neighborhood exploits. We’ve even had some of the dog’s human family members (kids as well as adults) come around the corner looking and calling for their dog, and yet all they do when they see them running amuck in our front yard is to stand there and watch. It isn’t until either our mother or Theresa (in a state of anger), after pushing Rosee back, goes out front to tell them to get their dog away from our yard that the dog is then finally captured and taken home.

What’s worse than worse? This afternoon’s incident is about the tenth time it’s happened. The tenth you say? Preposterous you exclaim? Outlandish you yell? Outrageous you shout?

I say, yes, it’s true. The tenth time.

It’s annoying.

The people are always slightly apologetic to our faces, but I’ve started to doubt their sincerity after the third time it happened. It was after this tenth time though that Theresa had really had enough. She marched out our front door and told the two kids that had run up to get (i.e. watch) the dog that they needed to keep their dog off of our front yard and away from our house because he attacks our front door and pees all over the yard. The kids agreed and quickly left. However, it was about five minutes later that some of the adults apparently piled in their car and came to do a slow drive-by of our house. The nerve! All I wanted to shout at them is that we have nothing to be ashamed of, and that they all need to start taking more responsibility for their animal. Theresa swore that the next time this all happens (because let’s face it there will be a next time) she is going to call animal control. Fact is, in our city any dogs that are found to be running loose and acting vicious and aggressive can be reported, and this particular dog is doing just that. Of course, it’s not an easy decision deciding to make a report to animal control, the department certainly isn’t known for leniency, but it’s necessary.

And I am not going to try and be shamed for having my house and dog attacked again, and my sister telling off the kids that are responsible for said attacker. I’m not going to be shamed for expecting better of my neighbors (and of their children). I’m not going to be shamed for hoping for a little more respect and consideration from others for my dogs.

Breed matters not here.

My dogs don’t pee on their lawns (or poop for that matter). My dogs don’t get loose and run all over the neighborhood. My dogs don’t attack other people’s front doors. (And the world would see their breed banned and destroyed!) I think it’s only fair that I expect my neighbors to offer me and mine the same courtesy that we show them.

So, ‘til next time.