To the Neighbors in the Complex I Live in – I’m SO Sorry
First off, let me say the fact that I'm writing two sorry letters in a row that involves my dog definitely makes me feel like a horrible dog dad, so I can only imagine how parents who are ridiculed on social media on the regular feel. But that said, to my neighbors in the complex I live in...
I'm SO sorry. So here's what happened.
I noticed over the spring when I first got back home from living in Tulsa that Remy isn't a big fan of garbage or recycling trucks. Which honestly puzzles me because when I got him in Tulsa, we lived on a main road and had big trucks drive by us all the time and he was fine. But right when we got back to New England, since I was home every day for 9 months, every garbage day morning he would COWER against me anytime the garbage truck came, then do it all over again when the recyclable truck came by.
What's weird, though is he'll be fine if he hears and sees fire trucks or ambulances drive by, or even still some 18-wheelers -- it's like he's picky about what freaks him out. With the colder months here now, and a few snowfalls under our belts (including this most recent one yesterday), I realized that he's not a fan of something else, too.
It makes NO sense. Plows are literally regular trucks with, well, plows attached to the front. Heck, I OWN A MID-SIZED TRUCK. He's fine with that one. He's fine with the neighbors' trucks in our complex, but for whatever reason, toss a plow on the front and the little guy loses his mind. I'm assuming maybe the noise is frightening to him, or maybe it makes even higher pitched noises while scraping against the cement that we can't hear, but he can?
Regardless, not only will he lose his mind and cower, but he's decided plows deserve some extra love -- howling. And I mean it's the most passionate, loud, from the depths of his soul howling that he could ever muster up. So, unfortunately, like when the snow started falling late on Tuesday night and the plows showed up in the middle of the night on technically Wednesday morning, it was a recipe for disaster.
So, I just wanted to say, neighbors of my complex, I'm SO sorry. There's nothing worse than being in a dead sleep and getting woken up in the middle of the night by anything, really, but especially a 18-month-old puppy dog that is howling like he's about to turn into Teen Wolf and bench press some plows over his head because Teen Wolf strength.
If it makes you feel any better, though, that howling was happening right in my ear, and I'm pretty sure if I get home and you yell at me in annoyance, I won't be able to hear you. So, you woke up, but Teen Wolf basically ate my eardrum. Call it even?