Hellish Creatures

For a long time the house next to ours was rented to what I will kindly describe as a village of highly irresponsible and inconsiderate foreigners. In addition to an expansive fleet of non-functional vehicles (many of which had been totaled and were apparently just kept around as conversation pieces) there were at any given moment at least three grease-mouthed children peering over the fence onto my property, giggling like loons. Along with that Filthy Kilroy revue was a particularly hellish set of fur-matted miniature Collies who yelped like stuck porpoises incessantly throughout the night and day. It does not take much of a man to convincingly convey the sort of torture this equals. Let me just say that I called the police on several occasions and did manage to get animal control to remove the dogs more than once.

So just my luck that the very day this troupe of gypsies moves out, another long-tatted National Geographic pulls into the drive with not two but five congenitally agitated mongrels. And these are the mature variety, the sort which can whoof with full voices all day long without rest, sunup to sundown. Imagine five full-grown men screaming in unison at a telephone pole for sixteen hours a day outside of your window and you will begin to approximate the sonic conditions of my neighborhood.