Into The Barking Zone

Recently, our previously quiet little part of German Village has become a kind of barking zone.  Some new people have moved into the surrounding apartments with their dogs, and those dogs apparently like to bark.

Not all the time, though — just when I’m leaving the house in the morning and coming home from work at night.

A dog across the street seems to be the barking leader in the barking zone.  He stands with front paws on the ledge of the window of his home, barely visible in the shadows next to a curtain, looking outward.  From his dim outline and the nature of his bark, he looks to be some kind of hound.  When he sees me coming or going he barks and barks until he’s got to be hoarse.

After the pooch across the street starts up, dogs in some of the other places hear him and they typically join in from their homes, blending their more high-pitched yips and yowls and yelps with the leader’s deep-throated woofing.  Within seconds, we’ve got a fully developed canine cantata going on.

I’m not sure why I am the target of such furious barking, which doesn’t seem to happen with other random passersby.  There’s obviously something about my presence that the dog across the street finds disturbing, or threatening to his alpha dog status.  And although I’m curious about how the dog across the street picked me out, the muffled barking doesn’t really bother me.  It’s just become part of the greeting when I get home.  In fact, it’s kind of like my own little fanfare.

 

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