Wait, I don't mean my wife was barking. I mean that there was a dog barking, and it was keeping my wife from sleeping. So, as any married man will tell you, when you have a problem, you have a problem; and when your wife has a problem, you have a problem.
Outside a little dog had been barking for a couple of hours. Once my wife woke and heard it, she couldn't get back to sleep. It would bark for a while, maybe five minutes, stop, then start with a few tentative barks, and then a crescendo for a long period. Then silence -- and the process would begin again. I slept through that, but not through her.
Let's face it -- my wife is sweet on the dogs. And, with her heart still in bandages from the loss of Nipper a couple of weeks ago, all she could think was that there was a suffering dog out there whose owner was too sleepy to let it in.
 |
| Miscellaneous dog in peril, imagined by the Mrs. |
So, Fred to the rescue. Let's face it -- I'm sweet on my wife.
From outside I tried to determine where the dog was, and could tell immediately it was not the little pest up the block. It was actually from a house up the hill, the row whose backyards face our street, the street that can't be reached by road except by the side road. So I started walking. Herein the text exchange with my wife:
Me: It's not the pest. Up the hill
by the apartments.
by the apartments.
She: Can the police go check? The poor
thing must be freezing.
thing must be freezing.
Me: I will have a look
She: No, don't go up there!
Me: Why not? Could be on the street
She: No! It's probably in their yard!
Me: Then I will have an address for the popo
She: Honey, I really don't want you up
there in the middle of the night.
there in the middle of the night.
Me: The badlands of suburbia
She: You're trying to give me a heart attack
aren't you?
aren't you?
Me: You need sleep and you won't get it
if this poor pup is suffering
if this poor pup is suffering
She: D'oh! No fair!
Me: brb
<a brief interval later>
She: Where are you?
Me: At the cul de sac. It's one of these houses
but I can't tell which. #37 looks like
but I can't tell which. #37 looks like
She: Call police? You can't ring doorbells
in the middle of the night.
in the middle of the night.
Me: On the way back
She: Okay. I can breathe.
Me: It is not very cold so the dog isn't in danger
She: It's 37 degrees and the dog's been
out for hours now. That's not safe.
out for hours now. That's not safe.
Me: Okay. 2000 steps on Fitbit already!
She: Show off!
<I got back to our porch and called the police -- not via the 911 line but by the station's direct number.>
Me: Okay, they're sending somebody
She: Thank you so much love. You
saved its life.
saved its life.
Me: Or the owner having a heart attack
who's out cold.
who's out cold.
She: Could be that too!
Me: Could be dead....drunk
So that was my brave expedition in the cold night air. I wasn't too worried walking around, even if a single male with a flashlight could look suspicious. Yeah, I'm white, okay? But I'm also middle-aged. I look askance at young men of any description walking along alone; most men who choose a life of crime are dead or in prison at my age. My wife was afraid someone would call the police on me, but that just would have saved me the trouble. "Glad you're here, officer! Check out house #37!"
Before I got back upstairs the barking had stopped, and didn't restart. Fortunately it is a quiet town at night and the police can take the time to respond to nuisance calls like mine. And with any luck, things will be quieter up the hill in the evenings going forward.
4 comments:
Lucky you don't have coyotes. Now, that wakes you up.
Although ... neighborhoods with coyotes don't usually have barky little dogs at night.
Just sayin', as they say.
IDK, we got both
No coyotes, but foxes. Man, if human foxes made the mating calls that real foxes make, the swinging Czech brothers would have never gone looking for them.
Post a Comment