Watered Down

A woodpecker has taken up residence somewhere in the yard of my next door neighbors, possibly in the tree we share. I hear him in the mornings, a muffled but staccato sound that is very clear and distinctly woodpecker-ish. The small brown dog is untroubled by this but the black dog is curious and she stands stock still, head cocked and alert, scanning the fence and trying to narrow down the noise. Oddly enough, she does not bark, perhaps sensing that the noise is not a threat, just a thing of minor interest. After a time when she sees nothing but limbs and branches, she lets her guard down and trots off to explore other areas of the yard. Blue jays chatter at her from the power lines and squirrels high wire through the air from tree to tree while a pair of robins land on the back fence - only this last catches her attention and she makes a mad rush in their direction but they take wing quickly, unimpressed with her show of strength and bravado. She is, after all, bound to the ground while they have the gift of flight - I think birds know this and use it to tease and taunt their predators - and I watch her have a minor temper tantrum over the lost opportunity then turn her attention to another section of fence. There are several loose boards and she checks them all regularly, hoping for one to give way to a sudden 20 pound assault and provide instant access to one of the adjoining yards. I don't think she knows that I also check them regularly, hoping to prevent just such an incident.

The morning quiet is abruptly shattered by the sound of a door slamming and then a fierce eruption of barking from the terrier next door. I can see his feet in the space between the bottom of the fence and the ground and so can the dogs. Both race toward the fence and the noise level peaks out as all three try to outbark the other - they are nose to nose to nose and each is determined to be heard and committed to having the last word. They have never officially met except through the spaces in the fence but it seems to be enough to have established a pattern and the exchange gets more and more raucous until the terrier's owner and I are both involved. He shouts an assortment of reprimands and idle threats barely audible over the barking while I, in a moment of inspired creativity, fill a bucket of cold water and douse the dogs on my side the fence. There is suddenly just one protesting voice in the morning air and it is stilled the moment I empty the remainder of the bucket over the fence. I can't see the terrier but my own two dogs hightail it for the back porch and sit dripping and downcast, astonished that I would treat them so and looking at me with hurt, accusing eyes. I hear the sound of the back door from the other side of the fence, a quick intake of breath and then loud and long laughter and a young man somewhere in his mid 20's appears at my gate carrying a sodden and sullen black terrier in his arms.

The only real question here, he says to me, is why I didn't think of that first. Hi, I'm Miles. The terrier looks at me, ears down and betrayal written all over his face and Miles gives him a reassuring hug and me a grin. Nice to meet you, I say and we shake hands through the gate. The terrier glares and I begin to hear growls from the vicinity of the back door - the black dog has regained her composure and is coming to investigate and it's time to go. Think they learned anything? I ask Miles and he laughs again and says, Doubt it!

And so I met one of my new neighbors, a city firefighter as it happens. He really should have thought of it first.