Heart Attack Diary: #2

Dogging

 

My neighbour has a dog that barks all day long.

It isn’t continuous.

The dog started barking at 09.15 this morning.

Round about 10.30 it ceased – just long enough for me to hammer the two Popmaster contestants who, unlike me, made it on to Radio 2 – before resuming at 11.15.

Just before noon it stopped barking.

It is now 13.30 and the precious little darling has just started barking again.

The lovely little darling will continue barking, in this fashion, off and on, all afternoon.

There’s nobody home, next door, because they both work.

This asks so many questions.

Who would buy a dog, and leave it alone all day long, while the householders are out at work?

How could anyone even consider this to be a good idea?

And if someone did this thing – and by this I mean if someone had to do this because of a change in circumstances – would you expect them to figure out that the dog would be unhappy, and take action to prevent it?

Especially if a neighbour (that would be me) has told them that their charming little darling barks all day?

Wouldn’t you?

Let’s have some context here.

The neighbours aren’t to know that I’m at home, resting in peace and quiet, after a heart procedure.

But they have been told their dog barks all day.

And they have done the square root of nothing to prevent/mitigate against this.

So what should I do?

  1. Tell them (again) about the all-day barkathon? Or
  2. Just get the RSPCA or Dog’s Trust to come and have a word with them about being responsible owners? Or
  3. Do nothing

Thoughts?

Working like a dog

Hello?

Is that Worcestershire county council?

Good, I want to make a complaint.

Yes, I’ll wait, if I have to.

Hello?

I want to complain.

It’s about the lorries.

Yes lorries, the big ones, the HGVs.

They’re blocking the layby.

Well when I say the layby I mean they’re blocking every single layby.

I was out in my car last night and in the 12 miles between here and Worcester there were fourteen – FOURTEEN – extra-large HGV articulated lorries parked up, all of them blocking the laybys for us normal motorists.

And on the return trip two hours later do you know how many i saw?

Fourteen!

Yes, again. The same fourteen.

What on earth is going on?

Laybys used to be where one could pull over and have a breather for a few minutes.

But these days one can’t even get in the laybys – they’re full with HGVs while the lorry drivers get their eight or nine hours sleep!

When did this change happen?

Did someone consult us?

How on earth is one supposed to get out for a drive, pull in to a layby and give some random 35-year-old housewife a good fucking up the arse while her husband stands outside the car having a wank, that’s what I want to know?

We pay our taxes you know.

Hello?

HELLO?

I say Emily, the bastard’s hung up!

B.

Friends Reunited

Friends Reunited seems to have taken a back seat in the Web v2.0 explosion.

Peculiar really, given that Friends Reunited has a much better search facility (you try looking up ‘Belinda Thomas’ on Facebook and then flip to Friends Reunited and use their advanced search page!).

Yeah, I know.

Why am I lying in bed (just gone noon, thanks very much), listening to Millie still howling next door looking up my arch nemesis on Friends Reunited?

Well come a little closer my friends and I’ll tell you my answer…

Sigh.

I don’t know.

There, that’s it.

I think that – starved of sleep and with the edge of reasoning beginning to become unravelled like a kind of tartan travel rug that’s been used a little too often – I’m subconsciously looking for somone to gloat over.

Because I can’t hurt Millie, right?

Right, that would be wrong.

So I want to know how badly Belinda Thomas has fared in life.

I want to find out where she’s failed, I want evidence that there is a Karma that gets the really bad people in the end.

I want to peel apart her life, layer by layer until every one of her mistakes, every moment of the futility of her existence is exposed to my penetrating stare.

And she was really bad to me.

Oh yes.

She ‘dear johnned’ me.

It felt that as soon as I had boarded the train to RAF basic training she rushed to her dining room table and, under the careful supervision of her mother (another cow of cows who deserves the full might of bad Karma) penned the most poisonous of letters to end our relationship of 18 months.

Cow.

But sadly not even Friends Reunited’s advanced search tool can yield her up to my penetrating gaze.

Which makes me feel a little better.

After all, I rationalise (perhaps mistakenly but hey, I’m so short of sleep I know I’m hardly thinking straight), she really must be crap if she’s not even on Friends Reunited.

Ha!

Anyway, I have to go now.

I’m going to fashion a couple of voodoo dolls, one for each of Millie’s owners.

And then I’m going to stick pins in all of the most sensitive places I can think of.

Oh boy, can I think of a lot of sensitive places!

B.

More doggy thoughts

Yep, it’s been over an hour since my last post and Millie’s still at it.

So now I’m having ‘fix the doggy’ thoughts.

Weedkiller-flavoured raw steaks pushed through next door’s letterbox fluttered through my head about half an hour ago.

But that would be wrong so I’ve dismissed it.

I mean, it’s not Millie’s fault that her two owners are totally rubbish human beings, is it?

No, of course not.

So I need to fix the owners, not the dog.

Hmmm…

hits head against the bed headboard

I can’t do it.

I can’t come up with a way forward.

Robbed of sleep my brain is refusing to function.

Suggestions please!

B.

Good morning!

Ah, Sunday morning.

Breakfast in bed, an ogle at The Lovely S, a quick tap of the laptop.

And all accompanied by the ever-present howling of the bl**dy dog.

It was 02.20 when one of the owners arrived home last night – which silenced Millie.

But he went out around 10.00 this morning and she’s been howling ever since.

Fantastic.

The Lovely S just said to me that perhaps we’d better go out soon.

We don’t have anywhere in particular to go.

She just means ‘perhaps we’d better get away from that howling dog’.

Yeah.

🙁

B.

Ranting!

This might be badly constructed because it’s a rant driven by anger and because I’m angry I’m not going to be terribly nice.

So there.

See how much I just don’t care?

That’s a sign of anger that is.

This post might also contain swear words but hopefully I’ll have the presence of mind to edit those out before I press the ‘submit’ button.

The time is 01.50 (or ten minutes to two in the morning if you prefer).

I’m awake due entirely to the unbelievable thoughtlessness of our stupidly dim neighbours.

They have a dog, our neighbours.

It’s a kind of Basset Hound.

Her name is Millie and she’s eight years old (but if she was within reach of my hands right now the odds on her seeing her ninth birthday would be remarkably slight).

Millie howls when she’s left alone.

Guess what?

She’s alone.

And howling.

I’ve been upstairs in bed trying to sleep since 00.15 (quarter past midnight).

Entirely, conclusively and demonstrably unsuccessfully.

What selfish b*st*rds my neighbours are.

They know their bl**dy dog howls when she’s left alone.

They know because it’s been mentioned to them.

And now they’ve gone out for who-the-hell-knows how long and left their bl**dy howling b*st*rd of a f*ck*ng c*ck-s*cking bitch of a f*ck*ng dog alone in their house to howl all f*ck*ng night.

I really don’t care if they’ve gone to hospital because she’s having a baby.

That makes it worse in my view!

They didn’t see this coming?

They haven’t had at least six months to think out a dog care arrangement?

They didn’t?

They really didn’t?

Well how stupid are they?

It’s inconsiderate b*st*rds like this who give the rest of humanity a bad press.

I want to ring the police and report the dog for disturbing the peace.

And then I want to ring the RSPCA and report the owners for neglect.

THIS IS F*CK*NG UNACCEPTABLE.

B*st*rds.

F*ck ’em.
B.