Monday, February 28, 2011

Rubbing One Out; The Last Howl in the Alley

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

Why small dogs?

I understand the security-minded reasoning behind a big dog -- a fucking mean, menacing muthafucking attack dog that will bite your arm off -- like a pitbull or Rottweiler.

But, I never understood the attraction to small yapping dogs. Why? Unless you're a spoiled heiress, who is cool with adorable, furry, little creatures that urinate and defecate inside a $5,000 designer bag.

The smaller the dog it seems, the more annoying the bark. For one, the emitted sounds are utterly atrocious.

Yap. Yip. Yap Yapyapyapayapayap! Yap. Yip. Yappppppppppppppp!

I'm speaking the truth here -- every small dog I encounter during my daily existence in the slums of Beverly Hills -- won't stop barking. Fucking barking.

Yip. Yap. Yapyapyi! Yapayipayap! Yap. Yip. Yapppp!

If we're friends and you own a small dog, then please send me a 3,500 word email explaining why a fellow pet owner willingly upsets the harmonic flow by letting their dogs bark... nonstop.

For the love of God, please explain...someone...anyone... why small dogs?


Most people are civil and take the high road when it comes to dealing with incorrigible pet owners. I try keep the relationship simple: 1) clean up any dog shit, and 2) keep the barking to a minimum. Luckily, our neighbors do a great job with the feces removal department and keep our sidewalks clean. Alas, the canine sounds from across the alley tilt me to no end.

I only ask my neighbors to abide by two simple fucking rules. But one twat thinks she's above the "good neighbor policy" and ignored rule #2... keep the barking to a minimum.

If this were the East Coast, I would have already confronted my neighbor and they'd would've apologized and actually stopped because East Coasters are more civil to one another. But here in California, the sunshine-baked denizens of Los Angeles are selfish, self-involved, self-absorbed shitstains. They only care about how they look, and not about doing the right thing.

In Puppycide, I chronicled a festering problem with dog owners across the alley who constantly left two huge-ass dogs in the backyard when they went to work. For 8-10 hours a day, the dogs were chained up outside and went apeshit crazy when they spotted squirrels, heard other dogs bark, and attempted the scare the shit out of anyone who wandered into the alley. The actress who lived above them couldn't sit out on her porch and read scripts because the dogs would angrily bark at her until she left. The dog owners refused to keep their pets inside because the big dogs would've destroy their quaint apartment while shitting and pissing on their material possessions. Their "stuff" was more important than whether or not the dogs bothered us as we (the neighbors who shared the alley) bore the brunt of the noise pollution. I chatted with other neighbors (and a few maintenance guys who encountered the wrath of the dogs) and we were all in accordance that it had to stop, even if it meant gong through red tape and dealing with city agencies like Animal Control. The actress filed the paperwork.

I couldn't wait, so opted for technology. You should read Silence of the Dogs, the back story about the purchase of a gizmo that prevented dogs from barking, which I tested within minutes of its arrival -- I approached the dumpster, the dogs barked and jumped against the fence like the raptors in Jurassic Park, but I pressed the button on the gizmo, and...


Viola! It worked. I zapped the dogs and they shut up.

When my neighbors refused to fix the problem, I took matters into my own hands and altered how the big dogs barked. The results were remarkable and reduced to acceptable volume level. Whenever I took out the trash, I hid the gizmo in my pocket so when the dogs charged the fence... I instantly zapped them and they whimpered off. Sometimes, the dogs barked when I was writing in my office, so I had to zap them through the window, which only had a 50% success rate. The gizmo was most effective when I stood within 10 yards (luckily separated by a fence). The couple who owned the big dogs moved out sometime over Christmas/New Years, because when I returned from NYC, the two growling beasts didn't confront me every time I threw out an empty can of seltzer. I don't know if they left on their own accord, or if they got in trouble because the actress complained so much that the landlord or Animal Control finally pressured them.

Exit the big dogs. Enter the small dogs.

Equally annoying. Once the big dogs left, I noticed the new pesky disturbance -- the two small dogs in a different apartment building across the alley. I guess the two big dogs were so vociferously mean that they drowned out the whinny yelps from the small dogs. Or maybe that the big dogs are gone, the little dogs think that they own the alley?

Man, I never thought that I'd miss the big dogs, because at least their barks had a little punch. The small dogs? Sort of like being forced to listen to the new Justin Beiber record while seventy-five different sets of nails screeched on a chalkboard.

The owner leaves the two hell dogs outside in a fenced-in terrace with astroturf -- which is unfortunately out of range for the zapper. Whenever bums and homeless people wandered into the alley and dug through the dumpster, the dogs went berserk. They won't stop even after the bums left. They never stop. They were the worst possible nightmare for any neighbor -- an alarm that will never turned off. Nonstop.

Yip. Yap. Yap. Yip. Yipyapyapyipyap. Yip. Yip. Yap. Yap. Yap. Yip. Yap. Yap. Yip. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap. Yip. Yap. Yip. Yap. Yip. Yap. Yip. Yap. Yipyapyapyip!

I usually kept my ire in check, until I crossed paths with the dogs. My toilet exploded on Sunday and I destroyed three perfectly good towels in the process of cleaning up the flooded bathroom. I was was livid and fucking pissed, because instead of watching the Knicks game, I was dealing with a flood. When I dragged the soaked, toilet water-logged towels out to the dumpster (nowhere near my neighbor's building's dumpster), the dog alarm went off.

Yap. Yap. Yip! Yap! Yap. Yip. Yap. Yip. Yap. Yipyapyapyip!

"Shut the fuck up!" I screamed to no avail.

I didn't realize how loud -- top of my lungs loud -- I bellowed. Aside from Melissa Leo, I'm confident that I dropped the second loudest f-bomb in Hollyweird on Sunday. I frightened the neighbors on all sides. Nicky freaked out. I scared everyone, except the one person I wanted to spook -- the actual owner -- who was nowhere to be found.

Typical. Always absent, while the dogs cause trouble. Canine sound pollution. Do we need anymore pollution over the skies of Los Angeles? With carbon emissions from cars and planes taking off at all hours from LAX, not to mention all of the chem trails. I gotta breathe toxic air, but do I really have to deal with toxic noise pollutions from tiny shaggy canines that I'd like to punt over the Hollywood hills.

I took out my frustrations by penning a note...
Dear neighbor with the incessant barking dogs,

I'm kindly requesting that you reduce the excessive amount of noise pollution that your dogs generate. At the present status, your disruptive dogs disturb the tranquility of the neighborhood.

Your dogs (that you leave out unsupervised on your terrace) will be under heavy surveillance over the next week beginning immediately. If conditions do not improve and the noise pollution continues, then I will alert the proper authorities about your inability to comply with city noise ordinances.

Just to be clear so we're on the same page here -- your dogs are loud, so minimize the barking, otherwise the Los Angeles County of Animal Care and Control will intervene.

Your cooperation in this matter is appreciated.

Your Inconvenienced Neighbor
Last week, I spotted my neighbor doing laundry. I tried to complain about her barking dogs, alas, the twat ignored me. I was invisible to her and her fucking mutt almost bit me. I wrote about our unfriendly encounter in Matisse's Chroizo.

Alas, the note to the twat will have to suffice. Even if it's a literary gem -- it's passive-aggressive cop out. I'm being fair to my neighbor because she has a week to get the dog's shit together, otherwise I'm gonna drop a dime on the pesky, irksome, over-sized rats. The City of Angles is broke and the state is even broker. A struggling municipal agency like Animal Control is looking for excuses to generate revenue. They will jump at the chance to slap an "excessive barking" fine on my neighbor. I hope the twat rips up my letter, because I'll enjoy the payback when those slimy, money-grubbing fucking bureaucrats have a go at them.

I thought for a moment that I'd be a dick if I ratted them out -- but that thought subsided. You're not supposed to rat out your friends (and good neighbors), but they ain't my friends, which means that egocentric fucktard neighbors are fair game. A more callous adversary would have already complained to Animal Control, but I fired a warning show and gave them a legit chance to improve their behavior. They should be thanking me.

I should record (video and audio -- the audio could be a good podcast) the dogs yapping it up all day long, then find out where the owners worked and I'll stand in their cubicle and blast the recording. Full volume. Barking dogs. All day long. See how they like their precious little mutts now.

Yip. Yap! Yapyapyapayapyip! Yap. Yip. Yapppp!

I know -- it's absurd and inappropriate to disrupt someone at work like that, but that's essentially what they are doing to me -- because I work at home.

And how about sleep? The dogs from hell yelp and whine in the earliest of hours on weekend mornings -- particularly when I'm hungover to all hell -- so is that acceptable behavior, to fuck with a hungover neighbor? What happened to civility?

If you think I'm overreacting, then how about the next time you are hungover, I'll blast a mashup of the barking dogs with Justin Beiber's greatest hits, meanwhile mixing up a pitcher of Margaritas on your nightstand. Not much fun is it? Unless you're an alcoholic homosexual dog loving Canadian, which in that case, I'll make you listen to anti-gay sermons from the Reverend Jerry Falwell.

My biggest dream? Not to sell a screenplay, but to wake up and write in my office with the windows open (for an entire day) without hearing a single yelp from a fucking purse dog.

I've never hired anyone to whack a dog before, but it's disturbing that I know someone who knows someone who can take care of my problem for me for just a few hundred bucks. Maybe $1,500 at the most?

What's the going rate to silence a dog these days?

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