Who knew the time? And why did I awaken? I had gone to bed about 9:30 PM, and certainly had slept soundly for a stretch of time. Then, the sound of a barking dog barely came through the double-pane windows of the bedroom.
What the . . . ? Blinking my eyes and with a shake of my head, I looked over to glance at the red numbers of the digital clock atop the commode. A little past 3:30 AM. Sure, go back to sleep; get a few more zzzzs.
Head back on the pillow, eyes closed, I used my tried and true method of gradually relaxing my body until feeling confident about soon entering dreamland. Not to be. However faint the throaty canine chanting, my ears caught the calling. I commanded my auricular center to stubbornly ignore the animal. Happily, my ear's neural channels eventually closed down, and I faded once more into an alpha state. For maybe another hour — and then the barking once more registered.
For good reason, our ears are positioned closer to the brain than our eyes, nose, or tongue. Not just humans, but nearly all mammals depend upon sound to avoid/evade capture. However, secure in my dwelling with all doors closed and locked, the barks represented annoyance, not fear.
Still dark outside, and not even a quarter moon, I retrieved my five celled flashlight and went to the front door to hopefully spotlight that cursed cur and chase him away. The barks came from the upper end of my parcel, and that's where I aimed the light beam. About seventy yards away a yellow lab squatted. I shouted at him, "Go on, get out of here; go home!" The animal responded by resuming his barking. He may not have challenged me, but I didn't care to go closer at that moment, deciding to wait until dawn.
Come early morning—the animal still sounding off every thirty or so seconds—I gingerly approached the Labrador. He then stood fully on all fours and looked directly at me while increasing the tempo and octave. Not able to immediately decipher his mood, I wondered why he stayed fixed in one spot. The dog emitted no growl, but I nevertheless approached cautiously.
When fifteen yards distant, I noticed a cable attached to the collar, and said metal leash caught on a log behind him. Talking softly to him, I went to his collar and unsnapped the fifteen foot, plastic wrapped cable. Immediately, the dog raced east, topping a distant ridge before I might track him. Talk about someone bounding homeward!
No doubt the owner(s) must've wondered how the dog broke free of his tether, and why it took their pet overnight to find his way back from wherever. As for having my sleep troubled, I kept the cable. Little enough payment, if you ask me, for having to listen to incessant barking throughout the night.
