I know you've had a jam-packed morning of teaching that long blade of grass a (very loud) lesson for flapping in the breeze so willy nilly, which allow me to add is invaluable to your non-deaf community, but please take a few moments to read and ponder this letter from a disgruntled neighbor. (This is best done in silence.)
First let me say, be ever so thankful a wooden fence separates us. By now I would have gone all Johnny Depp Secret Window on your skull. (It involves a screwdriver if you've never seen the film.)
You see, my raucous friend, we have some issues . . . to put it mildly. It is of the utmost importance that we resolve these problems before they become really big (bigger than the gifts you so kindly leave in our front yard)--aka when I have a sleeping (key word) infant in my house.
Until recently, I have taken my disdain for your constant banter and buried it deep into the backyard of my heart (an analogy you understand, yes?). But now I am coming out of my "I don't like canines" closet, loud and proud. You have left me with no choice.
I'm imploring you to turn your neurotic behavior around. There's still time, my friend. Someone somewhere thinks your ear-piercing, soul-crushing yips in the wee hours of the morning are cute (bless them), but I would be willing to bet you a fine pig ear they would find a docile, silent creature just as lovable... if not more so.
Think about it. More belly pats? More behind-the-ear rubs? I'm offering you a wonderful trade off here. It's a win win. And what's more, you will forever change your neighbor's opinion of dogs--an invaluable thing, my friend. You alone have the power to change this bitter woman's opinion of all your canine companions. Let Spiderman's uncle's words ring true: "With great power comes great responsibility."
Your Wish-I-Was-Deaf Neighbor
P.S. Whispering is fun.