A truck pulls into the driveway.
Bark bark. BARKBARKBARK. Stranger alert! Gotta bark, gotta bark. The human is barking back at us; there must be something really important to bark at. She walks away. Wait, look! People!
One of the men comes to the door to tell me they have arrived. I smile at him while struggling to haul back two dogs. Not much point trying to talk--Airedales are very loud.
Hey hey hey! He's on the porch! He's leaving the porch! I can just about get up on the window sill--urg, who's strangling me?
The men disappear around the other side of the house and the dogs quiet down. Then one reappears.
Stranger! Bark bark! Rark rark ruff ruff. RUFFRUFF!
He disappears. Dogs settle down. The same man walks past the window again.
Stranger! Alert alert! BARKBARKBARK.
No matter how many times the same man walks into view, the dogs react as if a complete stranger were prowling around their territory. They sleep through the pounding on the roof. I start to settle at my desk. BARKBARKBARK and I spring three inches into the air, prevented from going higher only by my legs slamming into the underside of the desk.
The roofers didn't complete the work yesterday and are coming back today. The sun is out--meaning we'll get about three hours of sunlight today-- but the blinds are shut. I want to keep that ALERT switch in the doggie brain off.
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| A round of bitey-face relieves the stress. For them. |
