There are construction workers upstairs… all week, starting at 8, they’re making all the world’s worst noises. The dog is upset, I’m upset.
At some points it almost sounds like they’re making noises back to mock the dog’s bark patterns or egg her on, but I tell myself they have better things to be doing.
On our way in from a walk, two workers are in the stairwell, and one says something to me or to the dog (who has been barking for hours; for days… at their racket) in a language I don’t comprehend.
The dog growls and barks like crazy and pulls to run at them. I slam the front door satisfyingly hard and loud — the only way my dumb ass can communicate “I hate the noises you’ve been making and that I have no control over when it stops.”
It’s been a lot quieter since.