The Hound of Doom

Don't get me wrong: I love dogs. They're cute and they wag their tails and when they look up at you with those big brown eyes, your heart just kinda...melts. :D What dog people don't realize, though, is that dogs are actually genuinely evil. I don't think they mean to be; it's an inherent trait, not unlike the water cycle. It's just how it happens to be.

Last night is perfect evidence of this. Last night, I realized exactly why I am a cat person. Dogs...are...loud.

After 36 hours of being awake, I decided to go to bed around midnight. I crawled into bed and, for the first time in ages, fell asleep immediately. It was wonderful. I would easily have slept until mid-morning, blissfully unaware of my cool, dark surroundings. But four hours later, I was assaulted. I was violently and unexpectedly thrust from my sleep by a dog. Barking. Somewhere just beyond the back yard of the boarding house I live in.

At first, the dog seemed to have some reason for alarm. I could think of many, because I live about three minutes from a very, very large lake, and there's a lot of wildlife in the area. For example, it is all too possible that a small rabbit had made it's way into the neighbors yard, and the dog was just trying to tell his owner, "HEY, THERE'S A BUNNY! THERE'S A BUNNY! THEEEERE'SSSS A BUUUUUUUNNYYYYY!!!" Or a deer. Maybe even a skunk. As time went on, though, it became completely evident that this was simply not the case. The dog had now developed a pattern of four swift barks, followed by two seconds of pausing, and three barks, a second's time between each. The pattern, however, was just unstable enough to keep me from getting used to it, and thus tuning it out. Every once in a while, he'd toss in an extra bark or two, or get really loud and then really soft.

About ten minutes into the violent assault on the quiet night, I grew annoyed. I turned on the ceiling fan, hoping to dull the sharpness of the barking beast, if not drown it out completely. This proved to be completely useless, and, as a result, I had to find an extra blanket, because it was already kinda chilly, and the fan made me cold. 

Twenty minutes into the Florence Foster Jenkins-esque aria, I arose, only slightly disgruntled, and made my way to the kitchen for a bit of relief from the sound, and because I was thirsty. The sound of the dog was incapable, it seemed, of penetrating the house into the kitchen. As I opened the fridge and pulled out the milk to fill a glass, it dawned on me that the barking was, in fact, capable of penetrating the house into the kitchen. The assault began again, at full force. 

This dog was using freaking psychological warfare! I swear, it must have been a ninja or something. It waited until I thought I was safe, lulling me into a false sense of security in the safe-haven that was the kitchen, and then went right back at it. If it could build a giant wooden horse, it probably would have tricked me into letting it into the house. 

I drank my milk with a scowl and quickly retreated to my room, which was now freezing due to the fan. After pulling yet another blanket onto the bed, I lay there for another twenty minutes as the bombs exploded outside. 

The cure, as it turns out, was simply to wait until the sun rose. Apparently, this dog had some kind of weakness to the sun, because when 7am rolled around...the barking ceased, and I could finally sleep. I ended up sleeping well into the afternoon, though, which almost defeated the purpose of having stayed up for 35 hours the day before. But only almost, for here we are, at midnight, and I'm actually sleepy for once. As such, I bid you lovely people good night. And please, from now on...get cats. Your neighbors will appreciate it.