The barking dog

About two or three weeks ago some neighbors moved in. I didn’t know it at the time. They were down the end of the cul-de-sac, across a yard or two and several fences. Actually they were on a separate street altogether. I would probably never have noticed them were it not for their incessantly barking little yap dog. It is one of these high-pitched little shrieks that cuts through any sensibilities whatsoever and sends chills up my spine.
I immediately set out to find said annoyance, to somehow with sheer will and determination cause it to be silent. Tracing the affronting sound by triangulation I homed in on a tenement home that looked like it’s lawn would be a perfect parking spot for a semi truck. I pounced on the first visible human, a boy of about 10 and he said that the dog was barking because “he sees us.” His mom was emptying groceries from the car, and immediately forgot how to speak English. She smiled up and simply said “I don’t know.” Although it did occur to me that if the barking was caused by the sight of the family inside, that wouldn’t explain the barking all day when they were away, Short of requesting that they become invisible so that the dog wouldn’t see them I felt that my presence there was of little value.
The dog barks on (even as I write) and no-one else in the neighborhood seems to have a problem with it. I have had it. I must dutifully adopt my zen state and be one with the barking until it bothers me no longer. It is not acceptable for me to be the only one getting irritated. This really seems messed up to me, but damned if I’m going to let my shorts get all in a knot if no-one else is.
Ever have an employee in a nearby cubicle or office that talks through walls? Talks to themselves, and insists on using speaker on the phone at the top of their lungs? If you let them bother you, you can find barking dogs anywhere.

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