9.25.25: Barking Dog

There’s a dog near my condo who barks at the same exact spot on the sidewalk every morning. No person. No sound. Just that patch of concrete. I’ve started to wonder—what if dogs are tuned to frequencies of reality we can’t hear? Maybe that spot is a portal, or maybe it’s just where someone once dropped a really good sausage. Either way, the dog refuses to negotiate with it. That kind of commitment to invisible battles feels almost noble. Meanwhile, I avoid eye contact, pretending I don’t notice. Between us, I think he’s winning the war.