The Neighbor’s Dog

One of the best things about getting transferred to shore duty was finally being allowed to live off base. While I could have moved out when I was still on the boat, the Navy wouldn't give us single guys any extra money to do so as long as there was room in the barracks. There was no way a single sailor could afford the astronomical rent out in town without the extra pay, so we were essentially trapped. They always talked about letting us move out if the barracks got overcrowded, but somehow it never happened. I don't remember how much room we were supposed to have (it was based on rank) but I knew we didn't have it when we were packed in 4 to a room.

It took forever for the Navy to get my pay straight (I was practically camping out at PSD every pay day), and the commute was horrible, but I loved having a place to myself. I ended up renting a little condo in Ewa Beach that was about the same size as my barracks room for the outrageous price of $850 per month (back in '94). It even had a pool, and I didn't have to worry about making my bed before I went off to work. There's nothing like having your barracks room inspected by several different agencies every week (the boat, the barracks MAA, security, etc.) to make you feel exactly like a convict.

Like I said, having my own place again for the first time in five years was sweet, up until I got transferred to the mid shift. Once I started being home during the day, I noticed something I'd previously overlooked: my neighbor had a dog.

I probably knew he had a dog all along, but it never really registered because the dog was fairly quiet when he was home. But once he left for work in the morning, the little rat bastard would start barking almost nonstop until he returned. When I finally got tired of sleeping with earplugs in, I went next door to ask him to keep it down. He wasn't exactly rude, but his response was along the lines of "What do you expect me to do about it? It's not bothering me, and I'm not getting rid of my dog. Deal with it."

This went on until I couldn't take anymore. For a brief period I considered "relocating" the dog myself, but that wouldn't have fixed the root cause: his inconsiderate owner. He may have just went and got another yippy mutt, and I'd have to start all over. No, the real problem was that he'd never got to enjoy the tender serenade of man's best friend himself, and that I could help with.

So I bought a dog whistle. I couldn't hear it, but the dog sure could - every time I gave it a good blast, the dog next door would go apeshit. Of course, now my neighbor didn't think it was all that cute, and I could hear him screaming at it to stop barking. What upset him most was that the dog seemed to be barking for no reason whatsoever... the very same thing that bothered me. Since I was up all night anyway, I was more than happy to demonstrate how hard it is to sleep with a dog barking incessantly. As an added bonus, keeping the dog up at night meant it tended to sleep during the day, and I got some blissful peace and quiet myself.

He moved out a few weeks later. I'm not sure if the dog barking had anything to do with it (there was a high turnover rate in our condos) but I was just glad he was gone. The new tenants were two college girls who liked to have really noisy sex from time to time. That I didn't mind as much, though it was a real conversation starter if I had people over myself. All in all, it was still better than living on base.