The Starlight Barking

My dogs are involved in an evil plan to rule the world. I'm a little sketchy on the exact details, but it seems to involve systematically depriving me of sleep until I am so exhausted that I don't notice they are going online to buy weapons-grade plutonium. I am not allowed to sleep for any more than a couple hours in a row at this point, day or night.

Last night, during one of the brief periods of unconciousness I am allowed, one of the dogs politely informed me that they needed to go outside for a potty break. I let them outside and immediately Ranger (he's my slightly less fat, deeply weird, co-dependent, non-girl dog) begins to bark. Loudly and insistently. At 2:30 in the morning. Which is a little strange, because he is my "good" dog. (Hey, "good" is a relative term.) Since my screaming at him to be quiet at 2:30am is probably equally, if not more, annoying than his actual barking, I use my Whisper of Death to tell him to shut up. I have no clue what he's barking at - probably the dog next door, because he has only seen it 363 times or so. Apparently, there's still a shock factor. Gwen, (my grotesquely obese, completely clueless, couldn't-care-less-about-me, non-boy step-dog), is silent, which is odd because she usually barks at air molecules and the startling sight of her own feet. (Ha! As if she can see them!). I can only assume silence from her means she has died. But no, there she is - hauling her fat furry ass back up the stairs.

When I get up to feed the dogs at about 6:30am, and let them outside yet again, Ranger once more goes off. He never barks, so he really isn't just saying to the dog next door "Hey, what did you have for breakfast? Oh yeah? I had kibble. Yeah, my mommy's kind of a bitch. She could lose a few pounds, too". This is the WOHWOHWOHWOH bark. The "Seriously, WTF is that?" bark. There is NOTHING out there, you idiots.

Right before I go to work, I let the dogs out one final time. You guessed it - WOHWOHWOHWOH. I have just about had it now, so I race to the bathroom window at the back of the house to scream at the dogs. It is only then that I finally figure out what they are barking at.

The neighbors behind me have erected a teepee in their back yard. A TEEPEE. An actual wigwam. And, I'm not talking a couple broomsticks with a blanket thrown over them for the kids to play in. This thing is, like, 20 feet tall with poles and canvas and fluttering ribbons. It's full-on sweat lodge action over there. No wonder my dogs are freaking out! Hell, I want to bark at it! Ranger is just like "Yeah, I tried to mention that..."

It also has a skate-ramp, which I believe is non-traditional.

I bring the dogs inside and just before she steps inside, just now - after three trips outside to teepee land, after three major-league freak-outs by her brother - Gwen just now finally notices the existence of the giant teepee. WOHWOHWOHWOHWOHWOH! Sigh... She rides the short bus.

Now they will both bark at the damn teepee for the next six months until they finally get used to it. Then the neighbors will take it down. And my rocket scientists? Will then bark because it's gone.