heard recently in my neighborhood

So I filed a noise complaint this morning.

No, surprisingly, not against the door-slamming neighbors. (I just growl and yell at them every time the door slams, from the within the safety of my own apartment. I have yet to figure out what to actually do about them.) No, this morning's noise complaint was filed against my landlord. And no, not for the construction, either.

It's about their new puppy.

The old dog was old, and I think had to be sent to doggie heaven for health reasons. It smelled funny and wasn't an especially pretty dog, but boy do I miss him now.

His replacement is cute, and I think it's a little german shepherd or a baby rotweiler or something. I can't tell, I don't ever see it very much, but it's black and brown and REALLY FUCKING NOISY. I hate it. And I'm not a hater. I love animals. I grew up with cats. I dated a guy with a dog and just adored him (well, who wouldn't? see below) Felix (above) is adorable, and a bit of a barker, which is fine. Occasional barking, especially if I'm already awake, is no big deal. (and Felix didn't generally get up before me.) But this dog? Early riser = early whiner.

I loathe it. I wake up every morning wanting to fling poison-laced peanut butter out my window. I want to accidentally drop an anvil off the fire escape. I want to stick small beans up its nose so it can't WHINE so loudly, so consistently, so irritatingly, every morning at 6:15.

Yeah, 6:15. What time does my alarm go off? Usually at 8. That's an hour and forty five minutes of whining that I don't want to hear every day. That's 12 hours and fifteen minutes each week. That's SIX HUNDRED AND THIRTY SEVEN hours of whining every year (which is close to a month, straight)-- assuming, of course, that I don't sleep in on weekends, which I do!

Someone had to put a stop to this, and it might as well be the only one in the building who has her bedroom in the back. Near the backyard. Where the stupid fucking dog is whining. (everyone else, apparently, wants to have a big-ass bedroom and a beensy-weensy, no-windows living room. Which is just stupid. I mean, let me ask you: where do you keep your eyes open more, the living room, or the bedroom?)

We'll see if 311 really delivers, or if this was all a charade designed to mollify me without any actual change in the whining status.

Oh, and the other thing I heard in my neighborhood recently? I was walking down the street the other night and some guy came out of a store and I could have sworn he said to me, "Hey, do you have a husband? Or a goat?"