Well, then, it's been about a week since I've written on this blog. The main reason, I guess, is because I haven't been so miserable and I do seem to do some of my best, most prolific writing only when I'm ready to jump off a cliff.
Let's see, what's been going on...the dogs behind me are still tied up...and alive if you can believe that after this below 20 degrees weather we've been having at night (remember they have scanty shelter at best)...the other night I was out for 10 minutes and felt like hypothermia was setting in...and the fellow next door is still barking, albeit not as much as he was during the spring, summer and fall. It seems now the main thing that sets him off are the tied up dogs behind me so...I'm now trying to condition 3 dogs not to bark! Yea! I'm having so much fun "conditioning" other people's dogs. Maybe I should go into business! I mean, I could use a few extra bucks to help pay for the continuing, weekly chiropractic treatments & massage therapy for what now seems to be a permanent pain in my neck, thanks to my lovely, irresponsible dog owner neighbors. And no, my $5000 deductible health insurance doesn't cover it, thank you.
The dogs behind me not only bark at me when I go out back to feed Kitty (I've quite feeding my compost pile just so I don't have to get barked at more than necessary), but of course they are miserable, cold, and lonely and are barking for attention I'm sure, and maybe even food. Who knows. Poor things. I'm afraid to get too close to check out the situation because those freaks scare me back there (the humans, that is), and quite frankly that's the same reason I'm afraid to call the cops on them (again). Harley, the yapper next door, has been amazingly good, other than when the poor fellows behind me get him going. This of course happens a number of times during the day, and the yapper's people have yet to make an appearance to shut him up. Christ; someone could be murdering the poor fellow and his people would never know it...until dinner time. Yeah, at least they feed him regularly...
So of course, Yours Truly gets up, throws on jacket, scarf, gloves and hat (because I'm from somewhere else that is not this cold), grabs ultrasonic device and plods out back to put an end to the ruckus. I get the feeling that along with conditioning the dogs not to bark, I'm conditioning the humans to continue sitting on their asses. But I gotta tell ya, it's been a lot easier to train the Harley not to bark (he even comes running, tail wagging, when I call his name now), than it was to get his damn people to do something about it. Wait until spring when I hire some guys to help me in the yard and all the fidos freaks out... All hell will break loose then, and I'll get to release all my pent up frustrations! Yea, again.
So, while the barking is not currently driving me batty (or battier), here I am making friends with all the furry critters while I store up great resentments toward their humans on a daily basis. These resentments, of course, if you ask anybody in the program, could drive a gal to drink...or even to drugs...if they don't kill you by stress related illness first
If the barking doesn't kill me, the resentments, drink or drugs might, so either way I just feel like I'm screwed in Monroe. I had a rather different ending in mind for myself, but at 53 I'm still sort of young so, who knows? I still might be able to make an escape to the Mediterranean or a tropical island and die peacefully of old age rather than death by intoxication or insanity...if I win the lottery.
