The furious incident of the stupid dog in the night time

bellaThe stupid dog goes to the door around 5:30 a.m., maybe earlier. Dogs can’t tell time. Every night when I come up to bed, Deb reminds me, “Did you let The Beast out?” If I haven’t, I do, even though I know it’s probably pointless because, at 11 o’clock, the dog doesn’t need out. The dog needs out at 5:30 a.m., maybe earlier. Stupid dog.

She scratches at the door, or sometimes she’ll stand in front of it and make a sound like a congested umpire calling a strike: “Rmmph!”

Deb or I will roll out of bed. I’m a little deaf, so sometimes I don’t hear her (the stupid dog), which makes getting up that much more aggravating for my wife. But I honestly do try to intervene when I hear the dog and am in no way only pretending to be asleep, I swear.

Sometimes we’ll whisper-shout from the top of the stairs: “Bella! No! Go lie down!” But the stupid dog is not to be deterred. Scratch. “Rmmph!” Scratch.

I slide on my slippers, go downstairs, open the front door and grab the leash that’s lying there. But first I have to grip the cold metal clasp in my hand to thaw the mechanism so I can attach it to the collar. The cold air swirls through the open door and up my pant legs. “Rmmph!” I grumble.

The dog pads down the steps as I close the door. I find a nearby blanket and curl up on the couch while the stupid dog does her stupid business.

And that’s when the stupid dog starts barking.

“Wurf!” Pause. “Wurf!” Pause. “Wurf-wurf!” Long pause. I start to drift off… “WURF!!!”

There were a couple of nights in the early winter when the barking stopped. But then it stopped for too long. I woke up half an hour later. I went to the door and spotted the leash, but no dog. This had already happened a few times during the day, because there is something wrong with the clasp (and not because of how I hooked it, Deb!).

When Bella’s loose, she bolts. At 5:30 a.m., maybe earlier, it’s not the best way to meet your neighbours, wandering around their back yards as their motion-detector lights snap on. Still, better than when I first met our new neighbours after I drove over their cat. (The cat was fine; neighbour relations not so much.)

But most nights, it’s “Wurf!… WURF!” Again, not a neighbourhood pleaser.

As I lie there on the couch, I wonder, what is she trying to express? What is her message to the night?

“I am Bella, spawn of Candy! I did not choose my name, but I shall choose my voice! Even though I have nothing to say, I will keep saying it! I am the comments section made flesh!”

“Cold! It’s cold! COLD! I have no clothes on. COLD!!!”

“I eat garbage! I like it! Bring me garbages! All of the garbages! To ME!”

“I can’t stop retweeting! If I stop retweeting, Trump wins!”

“My owner wrote a novel! A novel! Why haven’t you bought it yet? It’s really good! Everybody! Did you write a novel? No! My owner did! A whole novel! He also ran over a cat. I’m a good dog!”

“Those alarm system signs on people’s lawns? They’re fake! Fake I tell you! Haha! Haha! I’m barking. Now that’s an alarm!”

“Anyone who thought Justin Trudeau was actually going to keep his electoral reform promise is a fool. A fool I tell you!”

“Trump! Trump! Trump Trump! TRUMP!!!”

In the darkness lies a hollow of the sickness of the mind
Where the brambles of delusion shade the sense you cannot find…


But then one night I got off the couch and went to the door to see what exactly she was barking at. By the streetlight, I could see the dog pace the lawn, then bark, then sniff and pace, then bark. Then she did her circle, bark, circle, bark bark, squat, bark, pace, circle, bark, squat, bark, bark, and finally down to business. That’s when I realized what she was saying:


Stupid dog.


About rossmurray1

I'm Canadian so I pronounce it "Aboot." No, I don't! I don't know any Canadian who says "aboot." Damnable lies! But I do know this Canadian is all about humour (with a U) and satire. Come by. I don't bite, or as we Canadians say, "beet."
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35 Responses to The furious incident of the stupid dog in the night time

  1. Chas Spain says:

    We were faced with ‘pooping in the back room’ syndrome for about a week straight. We were considering a pet psych but now that the dog has suddenly stopped we are convinced this may have been pure, calculated, passive aggression. (We think now) the message was ‘I’m going to keep sh*tting right here until you get that washing basket off ‘my’ couch’. It did however happen the week Trump was elected so may have been a collective international dog protest -would be good to know if anyone else’s dog was weird that week.

  2. As the previous companion of a beloved dog and now current servant of not-so-beloved cats, there seems to be a theme of ridiculous hours and “happy dancing” after a poop. My dog used to run around in circles and jump up and down after he unloaded. The cats race up and down the hallways. I’m really glad people don’t do that. It would make social gatherings and the workplace rather awkward.

  3. pinklightsabre says:

    I am the comment field, in the flesh!
    What do you clasp the dog to, when you put her out front?
    I do the same thing (go back to bed on the sofa, waiting)–but we don’t have to leash ours.
    Saw the play from which you cribbed your post title, in London this time last year. Whoa!
    Hate the title of the play/book! Can never remember what it’s called. That’s not a good title, is it? I like yours better. Rrrumph. Romsfeld.

    • rossmurray1 says:

      It’s the hook you have to push down the spring thing with your thumb. It gets wet and freezes.
      Apparently the title is taken from Sherlock Holmes, the curious incident being the dog didn’t bark. So mine is clearly the opposite and more realistic.

      • pinklightsabre says:

        Oh I didn’t know that was from Holmes! Interesting. That sucks you have to clip your dog in, I take that for granted (we don’t). They are good with time, though. Remarkably so.

  4. I have the good fortune of having a very thoughtful dog. She only comes up on the bed when she knows I am awake and waits to be let out. Maybe my dog should send your dog some pointers!

  5. List of X says:

    Well, maybe if you were to build a fence around your lawn to give your dog some privacy….

  6. Joy says:

    Alas, I am slave to my cats. They too enjoy the 5:30 hour and no matter how much I push them away, they claw at me (the one who can’t meow) or scream (the one who can) until I drag my sorry self from my bed to their food bowl. My husband also claims -ahem – to have hearing problems, so he rarely makes this early morning trek through the cold hallways of the house. So, Ross, when you are up at 5:30 tomorrow, know that someone, somewhere else is also wondering what happened to create this unfortunate situation where the animals rule the roost.

  7. ksbeth says:

    whatever you do, do NOT think of a pink elephant!

  8. Sheila Moss says:

    Sounds as if the dog has you trained you well. Good boy! Teach the humans who is boss.

  9. Rmmph! (Your book is good.) Wurf! (

  10. Wurf! (I accidentally pushed send.)

  11. At least you do not have to invest in an alarm clock anymore. Thanks for the post.

  12. Hilarious take on the Hayden book!

  13. Honestly, I don’t know how people can stand dogs. A cat wouldn’t wake you at 5:30. That would be gauche At least she has superior taste in literature. We lock our mutt in the office overnight and don’t open the door until someone wakes up to let her out. Works like a dream. Sound cruel? We used to stuff her in a crate. This is an upgrade.

  14. Karen says:

    This entire post reminded me why I’m a cat person. Did you really run over a cat once? I did. I still feel tremendous guilt over it, almost 20 years later.

    • rossmurray1 says:

      I drove over it. One cat was chasing another, the first one went out in front, I braked but was still rolling, the second went right under the car. Hid under a porch but unscathed and still kicking last time I checked.

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