What could be more rewarding in a man's twilight years, than barking dogs? They are all that there is to welcome me into another day, provided free by my indifferent neighbors, who could care less about my comfort.
I have become an expert on the loudness and harshness of beagles and German shepherds. And just when I thought that 62 was much too old to launch another career.
Directly to my north is the residence of one very loud German shepherd. I think he must live there alone, for but the infrequent shadows of nonfamiliar cars, I see no other pets or people. But I can tell you with some authority, this fellow can do some barking. Why, he barks until his voice is nearly gone, which takes just under two hours by my most recent appraisals. Mostly in the late evening, or the earliest hours of the morning, and he is devoted to finishing no matter what objections I should yell back.
To the south of my humble home is a six-character team of indifferent individuals three beagles and three people who surely must be at least part beagle, because they have no concern for humans, as nearly as I can determine.
If a person could wish for something that they have missed in life, it should include listening to a choir of beagles, day or night. The combination of a bark and a howl is a noise for the ages. I can think of no other animal with such an ability to combine the two. This disagreeable and persistent noise has built a great rift between us as neighbors, and of course, I am the most hated of the bunch. Shame on me for thinking that all I had ever wanted in my final years is some peace and quiet!