To Bark or Not to Bark: To a Dog There is No Question

Look at those faces.  Innocent.  Sweet.  "Just love us, dad.  A cookie would be nice."  You'd never believe that one of them is a serial barker.  And its not the dog who spends most of his time in Zen poses.  That would be Ching Ching, the Shiz-tzu.  No, it would be Miguelito, the Chorkie who sees ghoulies in the bushes and gets upset at the mailman, a passing cat, a man with another dog, the wind, the moon, a disturbance on the sun.  And he thinks I need to know these things.  So he barks excitedly and persistently.  Especially when I am on the computer or watching my soap.  

Do you suppose he has a method to his madness?  Do you think he knows I will eventually come and find him and scold  him and tell you get his little tail inside this very moment?   And don't you think I try to ignore him?  But who can concentrate on anything with Barker the Sentry going off and off and off?

Okay, so I know the game.  Tonight I sat down to write.  And as soon as I started typing...you guessed it...bark bark bark.  I gave in.  I went to the back slider and turned on the light.  There was my little soldier in the lantana, barking!  Barking!  Barking!  I imagine there was something in the lantana, but I'll never know.  I wasn't about to go foraging at 10:30pm.  No, I called him, he finally came in, and here he sits on my lap, blissfully sleeping now.

Do I think he knows what he's doing?  Do you?  Is there a question whether to bark or not to bark?  Not to this dog.  Not my Miguelito.

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