This is a scene reconstruction based on a story told by a fellow classmate:
Seven in the morning and the alarm goes off. Not the alarm I set last night, but the yappy dog upstairs that's been waking me up all week. Barking and scratching at the floor in anticipation of its owner's return.
That's it, I thought. This was the last straw. I had to talk to my neighbor. But since confrontation is public enemy number one in my life, I'll just put it off for a little longer.
Fast forward a few days and I get a text from my neighbor. Nothing incriminating, just asking a couple questions. As soon as I saw her name flash on my screen, I knew. It was time. I'll just ease into it. A few nice words about how I'm glad she adopted Buster* and then I'll get into the real problem...
The dog is loud. I don't have to be up at seven o'clock, but I'm not given a choice. In the afternoon I need some relaxation time. Some Netflix and maybe a snack, but I can't focus on the shows and movies with yap, yap, yap and scratch, scratch, scratch going on over my head.
Just teach him how to quiet down. That's all I wanted from her. She took it well and decided she would get him a bark collar.
Great. Now I feel like a horrible person. Every time the sweet thing barks it'll be shocked like some Guantanamo prisoner.
Guilt. Looks like you're public enemy number two.
This blog is a glimpse into my crazy life as a twenty-something female entrepreneur navigating life as the co-owner of a mother-daughter business. Things get pretty insane, but we make it all work.