I eased open the back door early one morning before work and tiptoed outside carrying a bag of kitchen trash. I took pains not to let the door slam behind me, then ever-so-carefully undid the lid to our garbage can. I lowered the bag into the can gently and slipped the lid back in place, but not without a soft clunk.
That’s all it took.
Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!
Our neighbor’s five dogs came charging up to the fence, barking hysterically.
“Hush!” I said, stamping my foot. It only made them bark louder, as I knew it would, but I couldn’t contain my frustration. If something wasn’t done about these animals, I would lose my mind!
It had been three years since our neighbors moved in with their two Doberman mixes and three terriers, breeds with very strong territorial instincts.
“They’re certainly a noisy crew,” I said to my husband, Rocky, after the first week.
“Professional barkers, terriers and Dobies,” Rocky commented. “Let’s hope they settle down when they get comfortable in their new yard.”
They didn’t settle down. They got worse. And more vocally versatile. They mixed in howling and yipping. They seemed to enjoy making noise, especially if it annoyed me.
A passing motorcycle, kids playing a block away, another dog in the neighborhood daring to bark back. Anything could set them off at any hour, day or night.
I retreated inside, washed my hands and readied for work, but not before vowing to Rocky that I would circulate a neighborhood petition. “Something has to be done,” I muttered, letting the front door close too loudly behind me and setting off another barrage of barking.
Lord knows I’d tried to love my neighbors. It hadn’t worked. They seemed immune to the racket. Don’t get me wrong. Rocky and I had owned several dogs ourselves and they did their share of barking. But they stopped when we told them to.
Our neighbors didn’t seem to have any control over their dogs, almost as if they didn’t care, and that’s what really made me mad. I gave up even complaining to them about the problem.
But I wasn’t going to give up on solving it. A few days later I commenced a petition drive, knocking on neighbors’ doors and gathering signatures. Not everyone was eager to sign. To my utter confoundment, some were not even aware of the incessant canine cacophony.
“You mean you don’t hear them?” I asked one neighbor who was way too young to be losing her hearing.
“Honestly, I hardly hear anything over my own kids,” she said with a sigh. “But if you say so.” I think she might have signed just to get rid of me.
One night I stayed up late reading. “Don’t you want to get some sleep, hon?” Rocky asked, yawning.
“I’d rather just stay awake all night than get woken up in the middle of it,” I growled.
“Good night, then,” he said, rolling over, snapping off the light on his side of the bed and falling fast asleep.
Not that Rocky didn’t care. The barking bothered him too, and it probably bothered him even more that I was so upset. But he had a way of turning the problem off, the way he turned his light off. He wasn’t going to get all worked up.
Others were like that too. Take the animal control officer I gave my petition to along with a video of the dogs barking crazily at me.
“Most dogs will bark if you point a camera at them,” he said, a little nonchalantly for my taste. “Mine sure would.”
Good grief, I thought. He owns a barker!
I knew what I had to do. I closed my book and then my eyes. Lord, I’m not getting anywhere, just angrier. Show me the way out of this mess. I’m begging you.
That Sunday in church I sat slumped in the pew trying to stay focused on our pastor’s sermon on the law of attraction. The dogs had barked all night.
“You reap what you sow,” the pastor said. “And that goes for our attitudes most of all. Angry thoughts will attract anger. Frustration creates more frustration. Bitterness begets bitterness. The opposite is just as true. Kindness brings more kindness, positivity attracts positive people. Love creates more love.”
Was that what I was doing wrong? Was I supposed to love these dogs, barking and all? I had to do something besides yell. Maybe I could befriend them. I stopped at a store to buy dog biscuits.
Monday morning I took out the trash. Immediately the barking commenced. I approached the fence. One dog in particular, a brash little white and brown terrier I always suspected was the ringleader, led the charge. I got down on my haunches and held out a biscuit.
He barked some more and then poked his snout forward, nose aquiver.
“Hush, quiet, good dog,” I said in my softest, kindest voice.
The other dogs watched intently. When the ringleader had quieted down I pushed the treat through the fence and after one last perfunctory sniff he gobbled it up, then sat down and looked at me as if to say, Can I have another one?
I gave each dog a treat in turn as long as they stayed quiet, praising their silence to the heavens. They caught on like champions. Until I went inside and turned on the garbage disposal, setting them off again.
Still, I’d found the solution to my problem. Over the course of time, with lots of love and praise and treats, I taught them to be quiet when I really needed them to be. Oh, they could still bark up a storm, all right. But the thing is I didn’t get so upset and angry. Just being able to connect with them soothed my soul.
I was able to lessen the severity of the problem and keep it in perspective while learning a valuable spiritual lesson. Dogs will be dogs. Barking begets barking. Silence begets silence. And peace begets peace.
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