Thursday, August 23, 2012

Backroads Barking Torture

My dogs work the night shift. Eleven to seven. They lace up their steel-toed boots, don hardhats, pack their black metal lunchboxes with baloney-and-mustard on Wonder Bread, fill their thermoses with coffee...and punch the time clock. It is my goal to see them fired.

I have not seen their contracts. But I suspect they were hired to bark intermittently at the wind in the trees, distant canine cousins three counties over, and absolutely nothing. Each of my three mutts deserves a plaque for Employee of the Month. A parking spot near the entrance. A key to the executive washroom.

There is no point in flinging open the door and chastising my blue-collared workers. No. Even a simple shout of "Bad Dog!" results in them rushing me in an orgy of whining, licking, sidling, and tail-whipping, the imminent apocalypse to which they alerted me gone on a zephyr.

I refuse to have my workers' barkers removed. On the off chance that some ne'er-do-well might hear my hillbilly hounds, and imagine the gnashing, bone-crushing jaws of invisible pit bulls. Or fleet dobermans, aching to relentlessly, doggedly, pursue the perpetrators of mayhem upon my property.

The horns of my dilemma are honed to razor-sharp points, my friends. I'm losing sleep over this quandary.


  1. I know someone who hired a hitman to kill a dog. The little dog barked all night, every night. Unfortunately for this person, the wrong dog was killed...

  2. Is it wrong to give a dog a sleeping pill? Probably.

  3. I heard that Big Foot was on the prowl in your neck of the woods.

  4. Glad you've got such a great security system. Glad you're not my neighbor.

  5. Sioux,
    We'll have none of that murder-for-hire business. I would sooner send someone out with Gramma Mimma's cloth napkins wrapped around mutton in her coat pockets to lure my barkers away from the house. Or pawn them off on a stranger I met at the airport.

    I think that is ethically wrong. But I know a guy who took his dog's arthritis pills for his own aching legs.

    I really need to stop messin' with him. One of these days, he's going to snap.

    Hey! My security system could bark at your nothings, too.