It’s 2:21 a.m. I’m awake. I’ve been awake for an hour. I’ll bet you think I’m going to write something about the darkness, right? NOPE. I’m awake not because I’m sick, not because there’s something bothering my conscience, not because I had a bad dream or because I thought of something really good to write and had to get up and capture it so that I didn’t forget. None of that. I’m awake because of a barking dog!

A barking, howling, yelping dog. It’s my own personal version of a hound of the Baskervilles. It’s barking is incessant! It pauses for brief moments as if to catch it’s breath, and then it starts in again! If the dog took on human form it would be one of those people who constantly complained about everything in life. Kind of like my neighbor, Pat, who has made it her mission in life to alert the HOA to every possible variance and violation. Not kidding. Recently she told me about calling to complain about the grass clippings in her rock. Holy Shit!

Anyway, back to the dog. This isn’t the first night I’ve heard it barking. But tonight it finally got the best of me. The persistent pestering of this insane canine finally did me in. I guess it’s a good thing I was never a prisoner because I would’ve broken quite easily under interrogation. Water boarding wouldn’t have been necessary. Tonight I listened to the beast for about an hour, during which time I had all sorts of thoughts dance through my head:

“What’s the dog barking at?”

“What kind of owner let’s their pet do that?” (Be aware that in the Boulder region one is not a pet owner, rather a pet companion).

“Does anyone else hear this? If so, why haven’t they done anything about it?”

Finally I decided to get up and find out where this barking was coming from. I sprung from the bed and through the open sash. . . Oops, plagiarizing that from a Christmas poem. Let’s try again. I got out of bed and threw on my green baggy shorts and a t-shirt, padded downstairs to put on my flip flops, and followed the nuisance noise. It wasn’t far. Just about a half block around the corner. The house number was 2130. There behind a large gate was the beast responsible for my insomnia. Not nearly as big as I imagined. It stopped barking when it saw me. I stared it down, evil thoughts of what I wanted to do dancing through my head. Darn, there I go again with the plagiarism stuff! I walked back home, silently cursing that damned dog! And now I’m writing this. I guess kind of complaining to you!

I suppose at this point I should sanctify this post by writing something religious. OK, let me give it a shot. Though the bible doesn’t talk about barking dogs that I’m aware of (though there is a passage about a dog returning to it’s vomit. Unforgettable that one!), it does speak of those things that cause us to sin. In this case those things that wake us up at night. Those “things” for me have been problems that have either been caused by people, or the people themselves. I think of all the “barking dogs” that caused me to lose sleep during my years in the ministry. They were, I guess, my own personal version of the murmuring Israelites that Moses complained to God about. Boy, did he have his problem people to deal with! Speaking of which, think of what it must be like for God listening to all our complaints. Mine alone are enough to keep Him awake at night. Although certainly that can’t bother Him, because God never sleeps. In fact, maybe God welcomes it. Gives Him something to do instead of watching worthless late night TV.

I don’t know what I’m going to do about that barking dog. Maybe try and ignore it? Maybe call animal control in the morning? I’ll think about it as I try to get back to sleep. Right now my main takeaway is that I don’t want to be a barking dog. I don’t want to bitch and moan about all the problems in the world or that I have—most of which are first world problems. I don’t want to complain about the president and I certainly don’t want to grumble and gossip about other people. I want to be at peace. And sleep. And awake to a new day refreshed and ready to walk in the light.