The dogs woke me up from my nap (and I really needed a nap). They were barking at Mr. Squirrel. From the pitch of their voices, I knew Mr. Squirrel was in that little tree, the one where he can taunt the dogs just a few feet over their heads. They don’t bark like that when Mr. Squirrel is up in the pecan tree.
I did what I always do first: bang on the door and yell, “Puppies! Hush!”
No good.
Then I banged on the wall of the house.
They didn’t even pause.
I went outside and clapped my hands.
They pretended not to hear me.
I called out sweetly, “Puppies! Come inside!”
Nothing.
Then I grapped the pitcher, which was half filled with water. They were so engrossed in barking that they didn’t hear me approach.
“Stop barking!” I yelled and threw the water in their direction, but they’d already scampered out of the way.
It did get Mr. Squirrel’s attention, though. He jumped to the pecan tree. The barking deepened to an acceptable letter. I went back inside and made cocoa mint maté.
