Dogs Bark

This might be another dog post. I’m not sure. It might be, however, about neighbors not behaving as good neighbors. About bullies who, having gotten away with their nonsense for years, need to be put in their place. Please ask yourself right now, Am I a dog person? Or, Am I a bully? If you’re not a dog person or you identify as a bully (or someone has called you one, but you’re too stupid to self-reflect and realize the truth of such accusation), then don’t waste your time on my words. I know you. You live about 200 yards from me.

I’ve lived for twenty-eight years on a quiet, dead-end street that has only three houses. The neighbors next to me are wonderful, friendly, helpful—everything one could hope for in a neighbor. The other neighbors—or I should qualify and say the husband—is self-centered, unfriendly, unhelpful, and clearly not a dog person. I’ll call him Schmurtis.

A year-and-a-half ago I made it my mission to rehabilitate my struggling front garden. The day was already warm by 10:00am. I was on my knees, pounding away at a metal edging, when Schmurtis approached from across the way. “Can I talk to you?” he asked. Instantly, I thought he was there to correct my method, although I should have had no reason to believe he was more expert on garden edging than I. Something in his tone, at the very least, told me that he wasn’t in a chuckly mood. Before I had a chance to rise off my knees, he thrust his pointing finger toward my two havanese, Mona and Bowie, (I believe you know them by now), at this point straining against their long leashes about forty feet away and barking up a storm at the hostile intrusion; finger-thrusting Schmurtis bellowed, “This has got to stop!”

I wordlessly got to my feet, immediately sensing that Schmurtis’ mood was not a very wholesome one; I’d call it “non-brooking”, if such is a word. Now, Schmurtis is a large man and, even off my knees, he towered over me. For about five minutes I endured his barrage of complaints about my dogs who were, admittedly, getting up to a great deal of barking. . . something they’re especially apt to do when they see Momma being badgered by an unfriendly, neighborhood non-dog person. My tepid defense (things like, “I’ve taken them to dog training. . . I’m doing my best.”) had no effect on Schmurtis. He offered his solution, “They need drugs.” He then, inexplicably, turned to approach my very-apoplectic Bowie and Mona, reaching out to, what, try and pet them?! That’s what it looked like (if one were observing a complete moron who can’t read the simplest of warning signs being emitted by two beings of the canine sort.) Before contact could be made, I grabbed the leashes to thwart any blitz on the minds of Bowie and Mona, thus preventing an obvious outcome. I turned away from angry, moronic Schmurtis, and walked toward my front door.

It’s important to note here that I don’t respond well to men who lose control of their temper. It’s a long story; all I want to say at this juncture is that angry men cause me to cower, to freeze. I’ve yet to learn how to confront belligerence and hostility with, well, belligerence and hostility. Even when it might be called for.

Nearly a year passed between the above-described event and the next, equally unsettling incident. Once again, unpleasant Schmurtis took exception to my dogs’ objectionable barking.* This time, he bellowed from his wrap-around porch across the space between our houses, “Shut your f-ing dogs up!” My usual tepid response to aggression resulted in me adopting — once again — a meek posture. This time, I said something like, “What is your problem?” (I really have to practice a better come-back, one that telegraphs, “Back the fuck off, Bitch!” Gee, that felt good to say out loud. . . even if only in the safety of my living room.)

Give a bully an inch, which I did with my “What is your problem?” reply, and it supplies the oxygen that the species relies on. Schmurtis began his (very public) rant this time by declaring, “I just want my peace and quiet,” and “There are nuisance laws. . . you’ll be fined $50. You’ll be fined $100. You’ll be fined this. You’ll be fined that” (He had done his homework, and he made clear what he planned to do.)

What Schmurtis hadn’t considered was possible push-back. Not by me, but my daughter, who had heard the whole exchange. She burst on the scene and became the quarrelsome dame that, had it been a much earlier era in our history, would vex even the Puritan elite (= wealthy, entitled, white men).**

Refusing to engage (civilly) in a conversation with my daughter, Schmurtis revealed his base tendencies by then hurling his Parthian shot, “You’re so disrespectful.” (Let that remark brew just a bit; are you seeing what I see?)

Epilogue

Lest the reader think that I lack awareness of how bothersome a barking dog might be, I invested in yet another bark collar that has two purposes: it vibrates any time my dog barks, whines, or howls — very effective (and immediate) in correcting barking, and it also keeps a record of all these “incidents”. So, in consideration of Schmurtis’ claim that my dogs “bark all the time”, I had proof that on any given day (especially when I was away from the house), such is not the case.

Because of repeated aggression by this one neighbor, my own behaviors have been altered. I live with all the windows, shades, and curtains closed on three sides of my house ALL YEAR LONG; I enter and exit from only the doors in the rear of my house, and I refrain from taking Bowie and Mona anywhere near the front of the house. Is this normal behavior for anyone? Really, why should I be ever on guard against triggering a hissy fit by some blinkered and very unpleasant bully?

By the way, Schmurtis did follow through with his threat, not by calling the animal control officer, but the police. They referred his complaint to the ACO, who conducted his investigation. The outcome: Yes, my dogs barked when he arrived, then settled down. Barking — as when someone comes to your door or delivers a package or when someone becomes aggressive toward you because you have dogs — does not, in and of itself, rise to the level of nuisance. It is normal dog behavior. This is an important distinction that “non-dog” people should be aware of. To those people, I say, Look up the definition of “incessant”. If that’s not good enough, then buy some fucking earplugs!

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*Nuisance barking, in our community, is described as incessant barking for at least 15 minutes. To trigger an investigation, a complainant alerts the animal control officer to a potential nuisance situation. The ACO then makes an appearance and listens for 15 minutes.

**Of course, we know how the Puritan elders would have “addressed” the troublesome behavior of quarrelsome dames.