I have a couple of hunting dogs, Leeroy and Harley. Leeroy’s formative years occurred when I was living in the country on a few acres of land. As such, when he barked at coyotes or raccoons or concerns only discernable by an English setter, I did not really care nor try to curb the behavior.
Then I moved to a suburban home with neighbors, and his barking became a serious problem. All sorts of behavioral change efforts, from mild to electronic, followed, and he is mostly under control now — except when I forget to lock him in his kennel during the day when I am at work. The neighbors report that when that occurs, there is a symphony of barking that would drive any sane person mad. I’m pretty sure Leeroy is the instigator. (Harley is otherwise that perfect sibling that never does anything wrong and makes you look worse by comparison.)
The reason I bring this up is that recently, one of my barking-afflicted neighbors cut down a huge maple tree. I snuck over and asked the guys who were cutting it up for a few chunks. My plan now is to turn the neighbors a lovely bowl with a card — sorry about Leeroy.
Rob Johnstone, Woodworker’s Journal
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