WITTA DOGS………..IS IT JUST ME?

PERHAPS I’M JUST A MISERABLE OLD COMPLAINING SOD (don’t answer that). BUT.

Witta is a paradise, but this Garden of Eden is not polluted with talking snakes, neither am I in danger of being cast-out for scrumping apples.

There is, however, pollution of an unusual sort. Noise pollution; day and night. The night variety worse, in this otherwise peaceful rural landscape of beautiful jungley scrub and tree-shaded gardens.

Now, the chain-saw and ride-on mower cause temporary pain. They will eventually stop, and usually before dark. And I do contribute, so can’t complain.

Now, the native birds are rowdy, from dawn to dusk, and there’s the occasional illegal rooster, and cars do go past; then there’s the school bus, and the garbage truck on Wednesday mornings, and some folk will practice carpentry and piano with various skill, but there’s a much, much worse noise.

It will start when a neighbour goes out in the evening; drives to the film-night in Maleny, or to visit friends. Worse, visits friends and stays the night.

Worse still, neighbours that go away for the weekend, or for a few days.

LEAVING THEIR TWO OR THREE DOGS AT HOME ALONE, IN THE YARD.

We know the instant they drive off.

The whole neighbouhood knows the instant the leave.

On the worst of nights and days, many neighbours near and far will leave their homes and dogs for various canine-free activities, WHILST THEIR WRETCHED PETS HOWL AND SCREAM AND YELL from the very instant the car doors slam until the gravel crunches on their owners’ return. We hear this. We suffer for the duration. We get angry.

Imagine. The evening quiet. Even the currawongs give up. An occasional lapwing calls on its twilight homeward flight. A boobook hoots like a sad cuckoo. A car starts next door and simultaneously two dogs bark. Rabid, furious, outraged barking as the car leaves. The evening destroyed, the barking frantic, unstoppable, non-stop, no stopping, double barking on and on and on.

Barking dogs are indefatigable. They do not tire. The more dogs, the more clamorous. Only starvation, thirst and death will quiet a ‘left’ dog.

Owners, as a caste, do not know this fact. As their soundproof car-doors slam, they drift in cushioned silence on their journey to oblivion, oblivious. Unaware of the cacophony in their wake. Of stay-at-homes with ruined evenings and corrupted sleep, waiting, waiting, staring in the dark, hoping for the neighbours’ return, and the instant peace it will bring.

The dog-owner returns to a quiet dog. What, my dog barks? We don’t know our own dog? It never barks. Listen: do you hear it bark?

But we know, and we are angry. We forget, after a few nights of peace, and our anger dissipates. But often, night after night, daytime too, there are many absent owners, and the never-ending barking of a dozen dogs brings thoughts of selling-up. Now there are dog-owners who are aware: they are responsible, reasonable, and their dogs likewise. And there are many neighbours in agreement regarding the problem, but no-one is sufficiently driven to instigate an official complaint. Yet.

But nights of peace are so blissful here on our perfect hill, we sleep, and we forget.

Who let the dogs out?

Post script: Neighbours of friends in The Grange in Brisbane had two incessantly-barking miniature collies. The whole street complained, with the result that the dogs were de-barked by a vet, and peace reigned. Despite the dogs’ best efforts, little sound is now emitted.