|Brigit, my 90-year-old (almost 14) dog|
The next day, as we walked the same route, and passed the same house, there she was again in the same spot, with her phone, sounding like she was having the same argument as the day before. It was as if she had never left that spot or stopped talking.
On another block along our regular route, there is a dog hidden from view by a solid wood fence. It knows when we are passing by, and barks a steady staccato rhythm until we are well past. It sounds like it's actually saying the word bark.
Bark bark! ... Bark! ... Bark bark! ... Bark! ...