Daily Report: Urgings

I'm quite proud of my ability to yell. I'm not talking about screaming, but town-crier type yelling. I really am probably among the loudest 1% of human beings when it comes to that.

Last night when we got home from the beauty pagaent at 11:00, the neighbors' little terrier dog was in the yard next door, barking. He was still barking at midnight. Still barking at 1 a.m. Still barking at 2 a.m.

And I was still awake.

I woke up Susan and told her to go next door and tell the neighbors to quiet down their dog. "But they're asleep." "I know. That's the point. Wake. Them. Up."

She did. The dog stopped barking. For 20 minutes... and then started again.

I had Susan walk next door again. The neighbors wouldn't answer the door. I looked out my bedroom window and saw Susan standing forlornly in the street. "They won't answer?" "No."

"HELLO TO MY NEIGHBORS NEXT DOOR WITH THE NOISY DOG. WOULD YOU PLEASE SHUT YOUR DOG UP? THANK YOU."

Oh hell yes they heard it. I'm seriously about the same volume and timbre and pitch as a church bell. People indoors three hundred meters away heard it. The lights next door were on right about the time I said, "UP?"... hence the added, "THANK YOU."

I don't like to yell at people, or at the world in general like that (although at 2 a.m. my fuse was short enough that... well...), but the thing is it leaves one hell of an impression. This was the third night the neighbors' dog had kept me up where I had Susan go and say something to them; this was the 65th night since moving into the house 65 days ago where the dog had barked to at least some degree after I had gone to bed.

I'm quite sure that the memory of my voice (and the fact that all of the other neighbors in the neighborhood probably asked my dog-owning neighbors the next day, "What was that all about?) will ensure there isn't a 66th.

I decided to teach Tyson to go down stairs tonight. He came up the stairs indoors, and ― as usual ― got stuck there. Using a collection of leftover hotdog bits, I created a trail of yummy on the stairs. Tyson was funny, as extreme fear clashed with extreme desire to get his paws on all of that hotdog goodness. You could see his little brain was ready to explode. He whined, he hollared, he stomped his feet... and eventually found himself at the bottom of the stairs, as I cheered and congratulated him. (Seriously: Try crawling headfirst down some stairs and see if you don't think you should be congratulated for the accomplishment... I mean, after being called an idiot for crawling down stairs.) We repeated this 2 more times, and then I was out of hotdogs. My friend William wants me to get a crate for Tyson to sleep in, and I can see the point... but I want Tyson to be a guard dog, and I want him (at nighttime especially) to be able to wander the entire house. Wherever there is a sound, I want him to be able to get there to investigate. So, I figure that the best thing to do is to help develop his wandering skills. When he learns that once our bedroom door is closed it will not be opening back up for him... and he can get back downstairs after stopping by out door and finding that out... he'll quickly move on.