Can You Believe It?

(Lest anyone take this seriously, let me assure you that this is fiction, made up entirely from my over-active imagination.)

“Ma’am, I had a report from your neighbor next street over about a disturbance coming from this direction. I’m checking to see what you can tell me about it.” The young officer standing at my door had a questioning look on his face.

“Oh, dear. That’s not nice. The only disturbance I’ve noticed is one of the four dogs belonging to a neighbor who actually lives just behind me, in the direction you’ve pointed.”

“Well, um, actually, that is what I need to talk to you about.”

“Oh? Would you like to come in, officer? I’ve just baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies.”

“No, thank you. Um–chocolate chip, you say?”

“Yes, indeed. But, what’s the nature of the disturbance you mentioned? If it’s not a loudly barking dog at 6 o’clock in the morning or really, any time during the day, a continuous, loud, piercing sound, may I add, then I have no idea what’s going on.”

He scraped his toe against my porch and looked down before glancing up at me again with troubled, young eyes. “I might as well say it, Ma’am. The complaint is in the nature of someone who barks back at the neighbor’s dog, every time it barks. The human bark is  a loud, mocking sound, according to the report, and it stops the dog from barking. His owner is afraid this is giving his dog a psychological complex, stifling the natural urge of all canines to voice their exuberance at the sheer joy of being alive. The dogs have been acting odd, according to the complaint, and their joyous voices decrease to a mild yip or two following each episode.”

I nodded my head. “Oh, I see. Yes, well, please come with me to my back yard, officer.”

I led him through the house. As soon as we stepped out of the back door, an ear-splitting, penetrating canine voice coming from behind a privacy fence assaulted our eardrums.

“Watch this.” I stepped closer to the fence, took a deep breath, and with equal intensity, I barked, matching the dog voice, same pitch, same level, same rhythm.

I turned around to find the officer’s hands over his ears. “Is it over?” he asked.

I nodded. All was quiet.

“That was an F sharp, if I ever heard one and you hit the same tone as the dog did.

I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“What do you hear now?” I asked.

He grinned. “Absolutely nothing at all.”

I tried not to look smug. “That’s the only thing that makes the animal quit barking.”

He grinned, then chuckled, then broke into a loud guffaw. I giggled.

“It is nice and quiet now,” he said, wiping his eyes.

“Indeed.”

“I’m sorry to have bothered you,” he said. “This is a wonderfully peaceful neighborhood. I don’t hear a thing. Do you?”

“Not a thing.”

“I’ve no idea what the person was talking about, but seems to me you’ve taken care of any problem. Sorry to have bothered you, Ma’am.”

I waved as he left, munching on a chocolate chip cookie. Police officers have a hard life. They must deal with all sorts of kooky people. Thank goodness, that doesn’t include me.