Mr. Pickles' reign of terror began about two weeks ago when he and his owner moved into the apartment complex. It had been long week, and I had just settled down and gotten all cozy to catch up on some of my shows when suddenly, the INCESSANT YAPPING began. Now, a few minutes of barking is fine. It's to be expected. I have no problem waiting for a dog to calm down after his owner leaves the house, especially because I'd never heard this particular bark before, so I knew that this was an unfamiliar location for him. But after about an hour of continuous, high-pitched, yapping, I'd pretty much had enough. I threw on my shoes and set out on a journey to locate the source of my misery.
Apparently, I wasn't the only one ready to strangle that mutt. The moment I stepped out of my apartment and headed out in the direction of the yapping, I saw that one of my neighbors had already located it. The poor guy was standing below the balcony of an apartment on the other side of the swimming pool, begging the dog to shut up. "Shut up!!! Shut up!!! For the love of God, just shut up!!! I'm trying to sleep!!!" (Yeah... That's gonna work. Just reason with the mutt.) Unfortunately, seeing as how the dog was on the second floor balcony and his owner was nowhere to be found, there wasn't much anyone could do to stop the barking.
The ritual continued every night for about a week, when one morning I was on my way to the car to head to work... And I heard a familiar high-pitched yap. This time, it was close by. "You and me is gonna have words, buddy!" I start to turn around only to hear the owner say (in that obnoxious baby talk voice that newlyweds use), "Mr. Pickles, you silly boy... You come back here. You come back here to Daddy." (DADDY?!?)
I turn around to see Mr. Pickles the Pomeranian Pup and his "Daddy..." in matching outfits, no less!!! You have got to be kidding me. I so wish I'd had my camera. It explained SO MUCH! No wonder Mr. Pickles yapped like a diva. He probably gets everything he could ever want. Smoked salmon for dinner, his very own feather bed, a wardrobe with more designer labels than I could ever dream of having... He probably thought he was being severely mistreated having been forced to mingle with the commoners out on the balcony.