The dog next door to our home is
lonely. The poor thing has no company
during the day. Her original owner who worked with her has passed away from
cancer. She seems to be tolerated as an
outside dog. I think she has a kennel or
the garage to sleep in and to use as a place to get out of the rain. She really
is not our next-door neighbor’s dog, but the behind our home dog. Their fence is
our fence. It run along the back of both
our back yards. So yes, I guess we are
neighbors in a back fence sort of way.
Kara is the name of the dog next door. She is a German Short-haired Pointer purebred, I think. She looks just like the picture I looked up one day. She is the typical breed and she is bored and lonely. She acts just like the description of her breed. A bored dog will make trouble. One thing you can say about Kara: She barks. She barks at everything throughout the day or night. It is a penetrating noise. She is rhythmic with it, too. Bark, bark, bark, bark, bark, pause, bark, bark, and pause just long enough so you think she is done, then start up again. I have awakened in the mornings to her barking. She barks at her owner leaving early for work, the kids walking down the street to school, the van or car that pulled up on the street across from her house, a leaf that falls from a tree,and even at us. Yes, this dog barks at us, her neighbors. We were living in this house before she was even brought home to live next door. But in her world, we might invade her territory, so she barks at us.
She did consider us the enemy until the day my
husband, being the kind soul, he is, walked out into our backyard with a dog
bone. It was a large size dog bone,
meant for a dog her size. He walked over
the fence that separates our two yards showing her the treat in his hand. Kara
was so excited to see a treat coming her way, she slobbered and licked the
fence. She stuck her nose into the fence
to smell what it was he bringing her.
She danced on her front paws with excitement. Her entire body wiggled, her stubby little
tale bringing up her rear into the all over body wiggle, all the way to her
stubby tail. The bone was pushed through
the fence to her. She snatched it out of his hand, carrying her prize away to have
it all to herself.
I have no idea what Kara does with
the bone. She might bury it, stockpiling
it for a rainy day in a hole in her back yard.
She might bring it to her owner’s porch and leave it there to gain their
permission to eat it. I doubt she does
anything but crunch it up between her big teeth and down it before anyone can
take it away from her. (Greedy little
thing that she is.)
The first day’s reaction from Kara
must have touched my husband’s heart.
The next morning, he carried another bone to the fence. This time Kara saw him coming and grabbed one
of the tin cans that was laying in the yard, over to the fence in her
mouth. She was offering a gift in
exchange for the bone. She had to drop
the can out of her mouth to take the bone.
My husband came back into the house laughing a little at her gesture of
a gift. Every time he brought a bone
out, she would stand at the fence with either a tin can , an old piece of rope,
or an old dolly toy that was hers. It
was comical, yet sad to watch.
This sharing of a bone every
morning has developed a bad habit in our neighbor’s dog Kara. She used to bark at us as her enemy. I had taken to telling her “Shut up, we have lived
here longer than you have.” Some days she shut up, others she still
barked. She can see us in our kitchen
because we have windows on the door to our back room and a window on the
backdoor. The neighbor’s property is
higher than ours to help with drainage (not that it helps). So, Kara has a straight line of sight into
our kitchen through a hole in the pool fencing that gives privacy to both
yards. Now, when she sees some one walk
into our kitchen in the morning, she starts another rhythmic bark. “Bark, bark,
pause, bark, bark, bark.” I tell my
husband that his friend in the back is calling him. She is telling us she is up, welcoming us to
the day in our house, and not to forget that she would like her bone. I ask my husband in the event of our moving
out of this house, if we are going to leave a box of bones for the next owners
to give to Kara. Maybe we will wait to
move until she is gone from their backyard.
“Good morning Kara. Yes, I hear you. You are just going to have to wait until
himself gets up and takes care of you.”
I usually comment to the dog slobbering and barking at our back fence when
I am up and in the kitchen first. I let
my husband handle the morning ritual of ‘the giving of the bone.’ Some morning I cannot stand the incessant
barking. Just to shut her up, I will walk a bone out to her. I guess the old
saying: “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks” is not true. This gift of the bone started over the past
year. Kara has lived next door for the
past seven or eight years from puppyhood. She learned a new trick. Bark, bark, pause, bark, bark, bark.