A sweet thing sometimes happens on my deck—a pair of robins build a nest and hatch their babies. It has happened again this year. I occasionally see them flitting in and out of the sheltered place (where my dogs cannot reach) with food for their young. In the evening, one of them—let’s assume it’s the male—sits on the top bar of the dog fence around my deck, and he enjoys the air and looks around and has a little rest. Perhaps he is also watching for any dangers to his family.
 |
| Robin on fence viewed through window screen. |
A thing that is not dangerous is a dog barking from inside the house. The robin knows this. Benedict, my chiweenie, does not. He sees that bird sitting there, practically taunting him (your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries) so, standing on the arm of a recliner (because he can only see out the window if he stands on furniture), he barks. And barks. And barks. The robin continues to enjoy the air and look complacently around the yard. Benedict barks some more.
If I am listening to a podcast and Benedict’s barking drowns it out, I sometimes shout, “SHUT UP!” My shouting has as much influence on Benedict as his barking has on the robin. Probably Benedict thinks I am just joining in the fun. Because he does love barking. If I can’t stand it for one more second, I close the blinds even though it’s not even close to dark outside.
And that’s just a taste of the stirring events that take place at my house.
