This past Sunday morning, at about 9 a.m., our neighbors’ dogs were out in their backyard barking again. And when I say “again,” I mean it with as much venom and resentment as you can cram into the word “again.” When the neighbors aren’t home, which is most weekdays from about 8 a.m. – 6 p.m. and frequently on weekends, their dogs bark. They barkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbark.
It’s been an issue for us (Jess works from home much of the time), and unless something changes, it’ll only become more of an issue when our baby is born in May. It also happens to be an issue, I’m pretty sure (though I’d be interested to hear from any dog-lovers who disagree), where we happen to be on the side of right.
I know very little about dogs, but I’m told that there are ways to control or eliminate excessive barking. For instance, you train your dogs not to bark. And if you’re too lazy to do that, then you leave the dogs in the house so that their barking is muffled and the neighbors aren’t bothered.
Our neighbors, who moved in about eight months ago, don’t seem to be aware of the dog-training principle of training your dogs. That’s more or less in keeping with my general impression of them—they’re nice people, whatever that means, but they’re not all grows up. Their lawn is never raked or mowed (and yes, I know that that’s a terribly bourgeois thing of me to say, but maintaining your lawn is a sign of respect for your neighbors). The guy’s got about six guns on the gun rack of his car, which would make sense if we were all living out in the country but is just weird and anti-social in the middle of a densely populated urban neighborhood. They never walk their dogs. And they’ve built this huge shed in their backyard which looks like the kind of place where you’d hydroponically grow pot if that was your bag but is probably, in their case, where they have their Dungeons & Dragons marathons. The guy, also, has a bad ponytail.
Point is, they seem like the kind of people who’ve never learned that dogs aren’t just there for your pleasure, they’re also a responsibility. You’re supposed to treat the dogs well—walking them every day, for instance—and you’re supposed to train them so that they aren’t destroying the sanity of those who live around you.
As you can tell, I’ve had a lot of time to stew abut this. In fact, we’d let the barking go for months before we said anything about it, because we’re conflict-shy. About a month ago, I finally manned-up and talked to the husband one day. He was friendly, but not exactly responsive—he didn’t seem to feel as if there was much he could do about it. He precisely fit the definition, in fact, of the “Lazy and reluctant dog owner” as described at barkingdogs.net, which is a wonderfully strident resource for people suffering under the repressive yoke of barking dogs. The Barking Dog Whisperer explains:
That’s why it is so exasperating to witness the finger pointing ritual of the irresponsible dog owner: “He’s too stupid.” “He can’t learn.” “He can’t be trained.” “He’s too young.” “He’s too old.” “He’s hopeless.” “He’s psychotic.” “He’s neurotic.” “He’s insane.” “He’s barking because he saw another dog.” “It’s because he saw a cat.” “He saw a squirrel.” [← he actually used this one – ed.] “He saw the mailman.” “He’s out of control.” “That’s just the way it is.” “It’s not my fault.” “Hey, dogs bark, man, whadaya expect?”
The problem with those arguments is that they are all a crock. Your dog is barking because you have placed him in a situation in which it is more rewarding for him to bark than it is for him to be quiet. Your barking dog is not stupid. He’s not crazy. What the dog is doing makes perfect sense, given the situation in which you have placed him. It’s your dog. It’s your situation. It’s your fault. Take responsibility for it!
A week or two after my first encounter with the husband, the barking continued unabated, and so we took the high road and left a snippy note on their front door.
Another few weeks pass, more barking, and then, this past Sunday morning, I’d had enough (again). I knocked on their door and talked to the wife. She wasn’t friendly.
“You’re really going to have do something about your dogs,” I said. “They bark all the time.”
Pause.
“They’re dogs,” she said.
“Wow,” I said, “That’s an irrefutable argument. I concede the point. Sorry for bothering you.”
I didn’t actually say that.
We went back and forth for a while. Her arguments included:
“None of the other neighbors have complained.”
“We both work in very busy industries and don’t have a lot of time to worry about the barking.”
“Dogs bark.”
I really only had one argument. “Your dogs are barking all the time. It bothers us. We shouldn’t have to have our lives disrupted by your dogs. You should do something about it.”
We parted after I threatened to file a complaint with the city, alleging a violation of section 3-2-2 of the Austin City Code, which states, “An owner or handler may not keep an animal that makes frequent or long, continued noise that is disturbing to a person of normal sensibilities.”
So that’s where we stand. Jess and I really don’t want to file a complaint, because it’s an awful thing to have to do to your neighbors and, more to the point, because we’re not convinced anything would come of it — the Austin PD has better things to do than deal with barking dogs. But we’ll have to do something if it doesn’t get better. At the moment, I’m leaning towards the following approach, which barkingdogs.net euphemistically describes as “Pursuing your right of political protest.”
Most places in the United States, you have a legal right to protest your abuse by taking a bullhorn out in front of your neighbor’s house and proclaiming in booming tones the need for trained dogs and effective barking ordinances. In all probability, you will find that your local law will allow you to conduct such a protest at high volume, repeatedly and at length, until readily enforceable barking prohibitions are passed by the town politicians, or until your neighbor gets the message.
Then again, there is that whole gun/gun rack aspect of the neighbors’ existence, so maybe we’ll go back to snippy notes.
