I feel your pain.
I hate excessive woofing, too. Except I now have one of the blighters outside my bedroom window. And it's mine.

:(

We got her off my partner's ex-wife. The drunken fat sow had the poor beastie for 10 years until she decided she wanted a Paris Hilton-style handbag dog. So she was going to have her faithful old dog - that her (and my patner's) kids had grown up with, put down. What a fat cunt, eh? What kind of person does that?!

I feel like I was set up.

In an uncharacteristic fit of softness I volunteered us for doggy-adoption. But what else could I do?
The harsh reality is that I now have custody of a dog that has been sat in in a self-obsessed slag's backyard for ten years with absolutely no benefit of training (or, by the smell of her when we got her - washing). She's not leash-trained or house-trained, does not respond to verbal commands (ie, SHUT UP!) and chases my cats out of their own yard.
At least she's not morbidly obese any more - I and the cats have made some progress.
The saddest part about the whole thing is that every time the dog barks - a couple of times an hour, which is markedly less, I admit - I hate my lovely partner just a little bit for ever having slept with that disgusting chav-like hag.

RSPCA or earplugs? Every time a dog barks God should kill a chav.


(St Sepulchre's Belle tolled for thee on, Wed 7 May 2008, 1:58, Reply)