Behavior Modification: Chapter XII

 

The Question of the day: "Is there anything That Dog won't bark at?"  Mary asked that about Simon, of course, after he startled her, once too often, in the middle of the evening, with two very loud barks that set off my pacemaker and, I am certain, ripped the fabric of space and time.  For a Little Guy, Simon has a very loud bark.  

 

For example:  I stay in bed later than my wife, for I go to bed later, usually around 3 a.m.  In the late morning, 10 a.m. for instance, if he is not in bed with me, and if he believes (I assume) that I have slept long enough, he stands, feet firmly planted, just inside the door to the bedroom, and he barks once.  Loudly.  Even with all my physical ailments, I rise off the bed like some Hindu mystic.  One Simon bark is all it takes for him to wake me, or any sound sleeper, I imagine.  His barks shatter and penetrate.  In fact, since we discovered their power, we have had to put up the good wine glasses for fear of damage.

 

Think then how someone might respond caught up in the action of an exciting and suspenseful TV show like Castle or Justified or The Glades.  Mary is rather easily spooked anyway, as is Simon, apparently.  Simon doesn't miss much.  He barks, she yells, I giggle.  She yells again for me to "mute" the TV; she means "pause," for obvious reasons, but she has trouble keeping the two functions straight.  "Just do it!  You know what I mean!"  I do it.  And, as Tonto says in The Lone Ranger movie, "NOTHING!" of course.

 

Well, sometimes we hear a car going by on our otherwise quiet street, but usually nothing, for which we are all profoundly grateful, except Simon, who would always appreciate another excuse to bark.