Monsieur Bonaparte

Dear Little(literally) Dog Who Lives Behind Me,

My fruitless attempts to befriend you,have left me frustrated. 
Sigh.
I've tried chatting with you sweetly, through the fence, trying to stroke your little doggie ego. But, alas, you still bark at me All. Day. Long.
Although you're one of those delicate little, hybrid, sweater wearing purse dogs, I'm convinced you believe your a gigantic gorilla beast. The way you attack the fence like Cujo while I'm watering the plants is impressive.

Monsieur Bonaparte, I presume?
You must possess Jedi powers, because when I am in  my very own house, vacuuming, you sense this disturbance in the force. 
How do I know? You bolt out of your little doggie door and let me have it with your incessant barking...until I stop my chore. 
When we swim, BBQ, play, blow bubbles, entertain guests...your barking is our back ground music. 
You must have enormous self esteem to be so boisterous especially when, if so inclined, I could smite you with a ping pong ball.
My only bit of solace is that my cat  r e a l l y likes to mess with you. Sticking his paw through the hole in the fence while you go ape sh*t on the other side.
Oh, Oreo. You are rad. My hero.
So. Not one to give up, I will continue on with my mission to quiet the beast you think you are.
I will continue to engage in small talk with you while I water my yard, float in my pool, bathe in the sun.
And if you think my tone has been slightly sarcastic and riddled with innuendo... you would be correct, sir.


Yours Truly,


The Girl Next Door




Moral:
The squeaky wheel doesn't get greased, it gets eaten first in a Zombie attack.