Must Love Dogs

There are many states, particularly many western states, in which dogs are pretty much a protected class of the community.  Montana is definitely one of these states.  Even in some airports here, dogs are a common staple.  In restaurants, perfectly fine (and I'm not talking about service dogs).  On the street, no problem.  Dogs are treated better than most humans here.

It cracked me up when there were stories in Chicago about people freaking because dogs aren't on leashes or are in parks.  Don't get me wrong--I don't think the freaker-outers were wrong, necessarily.  It just made me laugh because the concept of restricting the comings and goings of dogs has less of a chance of flying here than restricting guns.  And that's saying something.  I, for one, had no opinion on the topic for most of my life.  I love dogs.  I find them awesome.  And I think they do good things for dog-owners.  But as a parent I also find them scary.  So I have remained Switzerland.  Until now.

Anyone who has ever taken care of a kid knows how hard it is to make the child (of any age) go to bed.  See prior post on the Mansbach book.  So once that child is asleep, you literally would do anything for that kid to remain that way.  And, as is often the case with desire and fate, the rest of the world will do anything to attempt to wake the kid up.  Your child napping?  The neighbor instinctively thinks it is a good time to mow.  Just put the little dear down for the night?  The city has planned a massive WWII recreation directly over your house for just this moment.  It's you versus the world.  Some nights/ days you win and some you cry.

But around here, the one constant on which I can depend to wake up my kid (and me) is the barking dogs.  They're everywhere.  Most horrifically, there is one visiting next door.  He's horrible.  And I have NEVER even thought these words about any dog.  But I want to lock this thing in my car with the windows rolled up.  All night long he yaps.  And I don't blame him--it's a new place.  But nobody does anything about it, because, hey, it's Montana and dogs bark.  So I want to lock them in my car with the windows rolled up.  For several nights in a row, we've played out a symphony of partial sleep, barking, crying, sleep again, barking and crying.  I'm serious--I want to let this dog out to run free.  I won't, to be clear.  But for the first time, ever, I want to.

Dogs.  Man's best friend.  Montana's upper class.  My nightmare.