The other night, Mike and I slept with the window open, to keep things cool upstairs. In theory, I like sleeping with the window open. I like nature and fresh air. I like crickets. I like the smell of fresh-cut grass (not ours). In practice, though, it’s not exactly like that. For one thing, our neighbor’s yippy dogs created a chorus of dogs howling from every corner of our neighborhood. Which Mike, of course, was able to sleep through. (The theme of the last few days: Mike can sleep through anything.) And there was howling from the woods, too, which I, the next morning, claimed was from “wild dogs.” “Wild dogs?” Mike said. “Did YOU hear it? Then I get to decide what it was.”
I’ve been walking/running in our neighborhood a lot lately, and it’s caused me to realize something. I don’t like dogs. I should preface this by saying that I’m allergic to dogs (ask Biscoe), that big dogs scare me, and that I am a cat person. But I have moved from indifference to dogs to a dislike of them. They bark at me all the time. I am just walking/jogging on the street, minding my own business, and they bark at me. I’m not on their property. They need to step off.
I can trace this intense dislike of dogs to the dogs that live next door. Whenever I am out in my yard – MY YARD – they bark at me. They are indoor dogs, so they bark at me through every available window. It’s my yard. I should be able to walk from my car to my front door without being barked at.
Anyway, back to the sleeping with the window open. In the morning, when the yippy dogs were let out for their morning bathroom break, we got lots of yippiness. Only to be expected. What was not expected was the woodpecker that was apparently making its new home in the trees behind our house. Hello, Mr. Woodpecker. We don’t think it’s time to get up yet. Please go back to sleep before we hunt you down with rubberbands (we don’t have any guns. But we do have a deep fryer).
As we were lying there listening to the woodpecker (Mike actually woke up for that one), I noted that even though our house gets quieter at night, it seems that the world outside gets louder. The dogs, the crickets, the birds . . . all enjoying the early spring evening. Unfortunately, my favorite way to enjoy an early spring evening is by . . . being asleep.
No Trackbacks
You can leave a trackback using this URL: http://throughaglass.net/archives/2006/04/04/the-great-outdoors/trackback/
10 Comments
I think you hit on a really important point here: fried woodpecker rocks!
I am not a dog person either. I get barked at by my neighbor’s dog all the time too… annoying.
Anyway, I was looking for some new blogs to read. I will be back.
Get some good sleep!
Dogs are dumb and smelly. :highfive: for cat people!!
i’m with you on the dogs. i went for a bike ride last night, and this one dog started barking at me, and then started chasing me. freakin a! so i rode far away from his house until he stopped, so i’m sure he had a hard time figuring out how to get home. that’ll teach him!
I love that Biscoe’s link is to Brian’s blog. I thought it was going to be a photo of Biscoe (which I have on a roll of film). tee hee.
Brian speaks for Biscoe.
Dogs. Carolina. How are we friends again?
Oh, right. Dogs are silly about the whole “I am master of all I survey!” bit, though.
I am suddenly tempted to send you a bootleg of Modest Mouse’s “Wild Pack of Family Dogs”.
It’s sad that entire families can be torn apart by something as simple as wild dogs.
Another Reason Why I Don’t Keep A Gun In The House
The neighbors’ dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.
The neighbors’ dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking,
and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.
When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton
while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.
Billy Collins
(your post reminded me of this poem…too funny. for those without barky dogs for neighbors, that is:)
I like Billy Collins. Thanks, Victoria!