Was just thinking about how blissfully quiet it was over Christmas. No Jake! That means no god-damned dog barking at our house constantly. It meant we could go out in our back yard without triggering a barrage of noise that would go on for hours and hours.

I don't dare hope that fucking dog is gone for good, in spite of the fact that Jake's owner has moved out a lot of her stuff (they're moving). I mean, I know that sooner or later I will be able to sit in my swing in my backyard in relative peace again. I just can't believe that it's now.

Jake has kept us pretty much shut up in our house for a long time now because whenever we poked our heads out, he'd start barking. I don't mean the normal barking of a normal dog, which is sort of a challenge followed by quickly lost interest. Jake would bark angrily for hours, walking up and down that fence. He would sit there at our sliding glass door just eight feet from the house and bark at Mara and I. For hours. Even with with the curtains pulled he knew we were in there (that's where Mara and I keep our computers). He would sit there and stare through the window into the utility room and bark the entire time anyone was in there washing or folding clothes, and would bark at our house for hours afterwards.

The only thing that has kept us from filing a complaint has been that “For Sale” sign in their front yard. Hell, that's the only thing that's kept that dog alive. I had reached a point where I was considering the unthinkable. A nice bowl of anti-freeze for my friend Jake. Or a dog biscuit flavored with rat poison. I am not one to do such things, but I shudder to think of what I might have done if not for the ray of hope that the “for sale” sign represented. That is how deeply I resented being rendered a prisoner in my own home.

Hopefully Jake is gone for good. I honestly can't guarantee that I won't leap over that fence with my box cutter should I see him again.