Pumba is a reformed criminal.
Yes, our infamous “farting dog” was once on the dreaded Bylaw Enforcement Officer’s, most wanted list. (He, the guy who is one pay grade up from a mall cop)
You see, our neighbor to the east, whose house abuts our lot, complained that our little pup was barking incessantly. In a sense this was true, except that the only person he was barking at was this self-possessed, I-me-me-my neighbor. Have you had one of those? I’m talking about the neighbor who complains about everyone else despite the fact that they exhibit the exact behaviors they complain about. Their home is their castle and to hell with anyone else. I call it the, “My shit don’t stink syndrome!”
That is just how Pumba fell into disfavor. That’s why the Bylaw Enforcement Officer came to my door saying, “I know all dogs bark, but I’ll have to return with a summons if I receive another complaint!”
Not knowing who “outed” our little criminal, we took all reasonable measures to control his barking. However, you must understand that Pumba is a house dog and only ventures outside to relieve himself. All of his other sojourns to the great outdoors are fully supervised walk-a-bouts. You might be familiar with my, “Walkin the Human”, video. Nevertheless, we purchased a muzzle and secured it every time we let him out for a wiz. His “woof” became a “whiff”.
Luckily a friend of ours does some housekeeping in the neighborhood. She informed us that, as the neighbor’s house cleaner, she had heard all about our nasty little dog. But, she also said, in all the times she was there, she never heard our dog bark
Bingo! We knew who perpetrated this travesty.
The only thing we could figure was that when we let the dog out in the early morning he often barked at the neighbor who was out warming up his vehicle. Our response was to bring the dog in immediately. So, WTF!
How, you might ask, does this all relate to what I described earlier as the, “My shit don’t stink syndrome”? Let me present my case. Then you can be the judge.
The Case for My Shit Don’t Stink Syndrome
1. Said neighbor has a dog. This poor Lab was subjected, in my view, to the inhuman “zapper collar” which was utilized to train this dog not to bark. If he barked he got zapped. You could hear him whine when this happened. But the worst of this was that the dog compensated for the non-barking with his own form of woeful moans.
“Moooo-aaaaarr-aaawwww-oooow-eeeee!” or something akin to that would eerily fill the air!
I believe this was some cruel Pavlovian response to having his nuts glow in the dark.
So, as soon as the neighbor leaves his dog unattended, the moaning and groaning and crying and whining begins. And, I’m talking about hours on end. We call the dog the “Mournful Cow” and sometimes, when visitors ask, we refer to him as the dinosaur in the backyard.
One time we returned home around midnight to find the neighbors on the opposite side (Both of whom are police officers) standing in our driveway. Get this, the male officer held a small caliber hand-gun tightly in his fist. When approached, they both told us their must be a wounded or injured animal in our back yard. They said, “Listen to that awful sound!”
Knowing the source, I bravely announced, “Wait here and cover my back, I’m goin in!”
I found the poor mutt tangled in his rope around one of the trees in our cedar hedge. He couldn’t even bark to announce his distress. Of course, he didn’t want his nuts zapped again. Would you?
I took a lot of pleasure going to the neighbor’s door, waking him from his sleep and telling him his dog was creating a commotion and he’d better get his ass out there and take care of it.
Just this past Saturday, this very same neighbor worked on his boat in the front yard, while his dinosaur moaned in the back yard. This brings me to Exhibit #2: Power Fucking Tools.
2. My neighbor has all of the toys. If they aren’t building a new shed or extending their deck, there always seems to be some power tool operating in their yard, regardless of the time of day or night.
He has a quad which he drives around, a power washer and a compressor and, of course, the ever popular generator. You name it and he fires up one or the other up on a regular basis.
“Brrrrrroooom, eeeeeeerrrrrrrrraawwwwwww, butta-butta-butta-butta!”
Said neighbor has been known to power up his riding lawn mower and cut the grass at 6 am on a Saturday morning or late in the evening when it’s getting dark.
This Saturday he was using his power washer in the front yard while the dog groaned in the backyard.
I think you get me drift.
But, I’m not about to stop there because there is more. Did I mention the dreaded Austin? THE SCREAMING CHILD FROM HELL!
3. The neighbor has a young child who can be noisier than any dog I’ve ever heard. As a baby, the poor child cried and screamed constantly. I was beginning to think that they put the child out on the back deck when his screaming fits became incessant. Heaven forbid they used the dog zapper for another purpose.
Hours on end!
As he grew older, the little nipper became a magnet for “boo boos”. I swear that kid hurt himself or became frustrated every five minutes. These shrieking screams were worthy of any Haunted House. And, when the kid screamed, the dog began to moan.
This is not two part harmony. No, this is two-part pandemonium.
In conclusion I’d like to say that I have a park-like backyard. My wife and I enjoy sitting on the deck, sipping our tea and reading a good book. Pumba sits on my wife’s lap cooing contently. But this idyllic pastoral respite often becomes impossible, like for instance, this past Saturday.
See, the neighbor is in the front yard power washing his boat.
“EEEEERRRRRRR. Budda-budda-budda. EEEEERRRRRRR. Budda-budda-budda”
His dog is in the back yard crooning his mournful lament.
And poor little Austin just crashed his little electric jeep into a tree.
“WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! WAAAAAAAAAAA! WWAAAAAAA!”
Hey, Buddy, your shit does stink, big time.
So, I thank the Lord for satellite TV and single malt scotch. Time for some cocooning, don’t you think? Head indoors and chill!
What’s that? Damn, the neighbor two doors over, with the craft business just fired up his backyard shop.
I’m outta here! WTF!