My two dogs produce more annoying behavior than the square footage of our house can handle. I'd say one unnecessary howl OR one piece of laundry pulled out of the pile OR one chewed scrap of paper per day is all that can go excused when you calculate the pollution-to-livable-area proportions.
A couple of weeks ago, Bonnie got under our backyard neighbor's fence and was bitten by one of their two outdoors-year-round dogs. Since then, Bonnie and Cody have existed solely for vengeance. Don't mistake that for violence. My dogs aren't violent. What they are, is loud. And obnoxious. And unable to forgive and forget.
They spend most of the day running amok, unable to control their rage and thus taking out their frustrations on our home's interior: various forms of jostling each other and us; trash pulled out of the bin, dragged throughout the house, and chewed; nosing around in Ethan's room for inedible items to eat; cornering the cats and assaulting them with their frantic sniffing (presumably in a desperate search for information); practicing their take-down moves on each other; dog-screaming every time a leaf trembles within 100 yards of our perimeter.
Then when I can't take it anymore and let them outside, I succumb to a hypothalamic jolt of anger as I watch those two lummoxes high-tailing it up the hill to the far edge of the fence, where they shout what I presume to be the canine equivalent of yo mamma jokes, threats and epithets. It's all very tiring.
I've written to the president; it's only a matter of time before the U.N. steps in, please God.