Hopes of Bane Dashed

The bane of my existence in this townhouse has been not the neighbor teenagers chasing each other with sticks and lawn trimmers, not the street-front fist fights involving the same teenagers, not the cigarette-smelly exhaust from the same neighbor’s indoor, free-standing air conditioning unit blowing right onto our porch. None of these, my bane (although they’ve all been quite bane-ish, if not banish-able).

Rather, the bane of my existence here in this place is dogs. Barking dogs, howling dogs, dogs that know not that we care not what they think, although we do pity them, cooped up there in their insensitive owners’ small back yards, dogs whose owners are, in fact, the aforementioned (among others).

While we did (with good results) call the sheriff’s department about a different neighbor’s barking dog, a couple of years ago, we have refrained from doing so for the immediately adjacent neighbors, partly because we in no way want to jeopardize our friendly terms, and partly because the woman of the immediately adjacent, nicely air conditioned home, works for the sheriff’s department.

But today when M looked out the front door and said to me in a low voice, “Animal Control!” I snuck to the window, saying, “This day may change our lives forever.” Someone else must have done it! I thought, my heart swelling within. Done what I have for so long longed to do myself!

The truck was parked out there in the driveway, still occupied, I figured, since the brake lights were on. Perhaps the deputy is filling out his paperwork, I thought, or double checking the address. Or waiting, for something.

I continued my office work for the morning (perusing online real estate listings), until I saw the neighbor lady’s daughter’s van pull in. Kids piled out, calling, “Daddy!”

Daddy?

I was deflated. What could have become for our sanity’s sake a new day dawning had instead turned out to be an on-duty family reunion to gossip about so-and-so’s crumbling marriage and whatnot (yes, I could listen, up in my lonely writer’s garret).

For now, I will continue to do as M has taught me: When the dogs bark, instead of cursing, we sing the hymn “Dona Nobis Pacem.”