Dogs Will Bark

I swear to god if the damn dog barks like it has every night for the last… Jesus, there must be a way to stop… Pet free complex my ass. The office will hear about this. ….call ‘em one more time, even if that clueless Ginny answers the phone, the airhead. I know exactly what hot-line Barbie will say. “I’ll call her again, Mister Jennings,” she says, every freakin’ time. “I’ll call Mrs. Wallace, I promise. Others have complained, too, Mister Jennings. We’re aware of the issue.”

            Aware of the issue, she says, Jesus, old lady Wallace’s goddam dog yaps all freakin’ night, and hot-line Barbie’s ‘aware of the issue.’

            This is how I’ve started my day for the last three weeks, the murderous thoughts I’ve had. The complex seems to have relaxed their no pet policy and let old lady Wallace keep her damn noisy dog. The old woman must be deaf is all I know. That or she loves hearing a yappy dog bark all night, maybe helps her feel safe from prowlers or something. That’s a laugh. Like anybody’d bust into her place anyway. Never seen the stupid mutt; never want to. I hear the mangy thing all damn night, that’s enough for me. Jesus, a man works hard, gets up at the crack of dawn and obeys the rules he deserves a decent night’s sleep. One of the reasons I picked this complex. It’s supposed to be quiet, no pets allowed the sign says. I shouldn’t have to call hot-line Barbie every freakin’ morning for three weeks.

            I know what you’re thinking. It’s a dog. Dog’s will bark. It’s what they do. That’s funny. It’s what they say about me, at work, punching the malingerers, rousting them out’a their cozy arrangements with no work and a steady check from the county. ‘Jennings’s gonna put the hurt on you,’ they say. ‘Think you’re gettin’ over on the worker’s comp people? Think again. Jennings sees all; hears all’ they say. I’m damned good at what I do, too. I’ve got lots of ways to make people change their behavior and straighten up. Lots of tricks. Bad back my ass. I see you tossing your kids around in the yard, hefting that beer keg, lugging the wide-screen TV into the house, the one you bought with your compensation check. I got pictures to prove it. Get back to work, asswipe, nobody wants to hear about your bad back. Your constant pain, boo-hoo-hoo. Nobody believes how you’d ‘love to be able to work like everyone else.’ ‘Love to be a tax-paying citizen again, but…this bad back…’ Boo-hoo-hoo. Get over yourself, Jackwagon. Claims office’s Jennings is on to you and your freeloading ways, pal. Lots of tricks.

            If I have to get up at five in the freakin’ morning, cold as a witch’s tit, drag my ass downtown every day to baby-sit a bunch of whiners and make sure hard-working people get their money’s worth, I deserve a decent night’s sleep. Damn dog’s making me crazy. I’ll call Barbie right now.

            “…Jennings, again. You gotta make that damn dog stop barking…old lady Wallace…the damned thing’s driving me… That’s what you said last time… Look, I’d hate to have to go over there, take matters into my own hands… What’s that? Look, I’m a good tenant. I pay on time every month, keep my place clean… I don’t raise a racket… What? I know she lives alone. I feel bad for her, old man dying and all, but Jesus! Okay, I’ll let you handle it. Aware of the issue, I heard that before. Okay, but if it keeps up… Okay.”

            Man, what do you have to do? Play by the rules, work your ass off, pay your taxes, keep your nose clean... What is it with people anyway? I ain’t no racist, or whiner, or one of them, what’d’ya call it right-wingers. I’m just a guy who plays by the rules and tries to make my way, you know? Sure the old lady’s alone and scared and don’t have no company, I get that, but Jesus, no pets, you know? Rules are rules. Reminds me of that Ferlin creep down on Parsons avenue drawin’ a check every month, can’t work around dust and smoke and shit. Gimme a freakin’ break. It’s called planet earth, pal. Hello. There’s dust and shit everywhere, you crybaby. Get off your ass, wear a damn respirator or something, and get back to work. Jesus, you gotta hold their hand for Christ’s sake.

            Or that Johnson asshole, man what a slow leak that guy is. DeShawn Johnson, world-class manipulator. That guy trick-fucks the system for thousands a month. I almost admire the guy, the way he gets over. He’s got scams on top of scams—partial-temporary disability, permanent-partial, temporary-marginal, Jesus, how’s he know all this stuff? I work there, and I don’t know half this shit. Gotta hand it to old Dee—Shawn, he taught me a thing or two. Knows the system better’n I do… If guys like him’d use half that energy to work a real job… Hell, I bet old Dee—Shawn’s still drivin’ his tricked out Mercedes. Man, what a ride that is—them blue halogen lights, slow-spinnin’ chrome hubs. That sub-woofer’d blow your hair back from a block away. And all on the county’s nickel. Gotta hand it to him. And I bet old Dee—Shawn gets a decent rest, every night. The fucker.

So, off to work I go. Might as well leave early. Been awake since four anyway. Can’t believe the old lady keeps the animal cooped up in that tiny apartment. Jesus, it’s smaller than mine. Not like that mansion Ferlin crashes in every night down on Parsons, after watchin’ Fox News on his sixty-five inch HD TV, and downing his six-pack of PBR every damn night, all on Joe taxpayer’s dime. Got the shots to prove it, too. Wait’ll claims see ‘em.

Look at that apartment, shades drawn, one-bedroom, yard the size of a kid’s pool. Where’s the dumb dog exercise, anyway? No wonder it barks. I’d bark, too if I had to put up with… I don’t see no clothesline, or hitching post like you’d tie a dog to. Old lady don’t have a scoop for the dog’s shit, either, not that I can see. I don’t even see a bowl. Wonder where she feeds it? Hot-line Barbie tells me she’s crippled, that she don’t leave the house, fixed income and all that. I bet old lady Wallace is one of them widows that’s drawin’ the old man’s social security and nothin’ else, and hides in her place all day. Damn dog’s probably all she has. I’ve heard of them people that stay cramped up all day, watch that Fox News shit, stay on Facebook whinin’ and bitchin’ about every damn thing. People that get a nice fat check in the mail every month from the county, or Uncle Sugar just for stayin’ home where it’s warm and comfy. People that never lift a finger, just piss and moan about the government all day, eatin’ ramen and canned lima beans and shit. Old lady Wallace is probably one of them Tea partiers that takes with one hand and slaps back with the other. Bitches about rule breakers, and then she ignores the rules. Pet free complex, the sign says. Think she cares? Hell, no. Damn dog barks all night.

I got ten minutes, I’ll stop here and tell her myself. Can’t hurt, despite what Barbie said. Screw her, it’s not like the office has done anything about it. Shit, rapping on offender’s doors is what I do, makin’ ‘em change their ways, and I’m damn good at it. I’ll just park here by the old lady’s back stoop, and pay her a visit, let her know the damn dog’s… Trashcan’s about to overflow. Wonder if she knows pickup’s today? Jesus, you gotta do everything for some people, even drag their trash to the curb. Maybe if I lug the damn trash out for her she’ll make the stupid dog stop…

What’s with all the dog food cans? Jesus, Alpo Gourmet? Dog eats better than I do. Shit, she must have every freakin’ flavor…roast beef and barley…pork chops in gravy? Holy shit, she’s feedin’ the damn dog…and the stupid thing still barks all night? Just like some people I deal with, never happy. Give ‘em more bennies and they piss and moan even more.

Trashcan’s damned heavy. What’s she got in here, bricks? Hope she appreciates me puttin’ it at the curb for her. Next thing you know I’ll have a bad back!

What a day, man! Can’t believe Dee-Shawn petitioned for more time. Unbelievable. He’s had his nose in the trough for two years already. Can’t find a job my ass.

Shit, I can’t believe it’s barking again! Three in the damn morning, and the asshole dog’s yapping away. Two weeks ago, Barbie swore she’d call old lady Wallace. Man, I can’t believe this. Aware of the issue, my ass.

So I just put the poison in the food—Alpo roast beef and barley, better than I eat, for Christ’s sake—and I plop it in the bowl, and I walk away in the dark. Hope the dog doesn’t spit it out. Alpo gourmet it ought’a lick the damn bowl. Perfect plan. Old lady Wallace’ll never see me. Shades drawn all the time. If she does see me here in the dark, she’ll just think I’m putting her trashcan back, bein’ a good neighbor. And I am being a good neighbor. Hot-line Barbie might be ‘aware of the issue,’ but she hasn’t done crap about the dog barking all freakin’ night. The other tenants’ll thank me, you watch. Hell, they gotta get up and go to work, too, not like my clients grabbin’ their checks every damn month and lugging their wide-screen TVs into the house, restlin’ with their kids in the yard. I got the pictures.

            There, I’ve done it. Alpo Gourmet on the porch, new feed dish and all, plus a little surprise whipped into it for the pooch. See if the damn dog barks tonight after eatin’ that. He’s gonna have a tummy ache like nobody’s business. Bet he shits himself. That stuff works pretty quick, the hardware guy said. Nope, no rats, I told him, just a bunch of mice. Use the whole box, he said, and it’ll kill anything that moves. There you go, pooch. I hope the old lady can get him out’a the apartment in time. Hate to see her get evicted for foulin’… Could lose her deposit. Hey, no pets, the sign says. Not my problem. She should’a made the dog shut up and there wouldn’t be no issues to be aware of, right Barbie? Neighbors will thank me, not that Dee—Shawn’s ever did, or Ferlin’s. People just look the other way these days, watch the whiners take their checks and screw the system. Well, not me. I take action. Hell, it’s what I do, what I work hard at.

Man, nothing like a good night’s sleep. I guess the dog must have eaten pretty well last night, he never barked once. Sure feels good when a plan works. Like seein’ the enforcement people cancel old Ferlin’s payment, the day after I showed ‘em pictures of him rollin’ in the yard with his kids. Bad back? Screw you, Ferlin. I can still hear her, that Lansing woman down in claims: “Mister Ferlin,” she says, I can hear her sayin’ it, “….these photographs…I’m afraid your claim has been denied pending further review.” What a great feeling to see the system work, and to see hard-working folks get their due, the lazy-ass loafers get screwed. Great feeling when taking action makes a difference. The neighbors’ll thank me.

            Maybe that’s part of my good night’s sleep, taking action and seeing it work. That and no damn dog barking, first night for weeks. Can’t believe how well it worked. Jesus, I should have slipped that Alpo Gourmet to him a long time ago. Bet old Fido slurped that shit up, two cans full. Bet he got the tummy ache of his life. Not sure where old lady Wallace’ll bury the damned thing. Her problem. Maybe she’ll get a cat next time.

Now what? Doorbell at seven A.M. On my day off? And what’s with all the flashing lights… Wallace? That’s her apartment, I think…Yes, it…I wonder what… Jesus, if it ain’t one thing…

            “’Morning, officer, can I help..? Sure, c’mon in, I was just fixing coffee…want a cup? I work for the county, too, and… No? Okay, just asking. Here, have a seat…”

            Damn, on a Saturday morning. No rest for the wicked, I guess. Bet this is about Dee—Shawn and our visit last week. Boy, he sure hated me taking those shots of the Mercedes. Tried to run me off, shoutin’ about his right to privacy and shit, wavin’ that dumb little pistol around. Didn’t like what I told him, either, you surrender some privacy when the county’s payin’ your freight, pal. I bet that’s what the officer wants to chat about. These guys work damn hard, too.

            “What’s that officer? Know her? Old lady Wallace? Never met her. Hell, I never even saw her. Just heard her dog barking all damn night… What’s that? Oh, sure, I called ‘em, a lot of times. Said they were ‘aware of the issue,’ that they’d do something… You spoke with the office? Good, that’s good. No dog? What do you mean no dog? I heard the stupid thing… Burglar alarm? What are you talking..? Rigged it to a speaker? You mean like..? Why would she do that? Yeah, I know she lives alone. Barbie…the office girl told me her old man died, and that she’s… Yeah, I know, fixed income. I hear you. Times are tough… Here’s the thing, officer, the damn dog was eating gourmet dog food for god’s sake… You sure there was no dog? But I heard the damned thing… Have I heard of old people eating pet food..? On a fixed income, I know. Cheaper? Alpo is cheaper than..? What do you have there? You wanna know if that’s me in the picture, is that what you’re asking? It’s pretty damn dark… Dead? Since when? And what would I be doing on old lady Wallace’s back porch… Officer, I swear to god I never knew… No dog? Are you sure?