Yappy the Dog

It's Saturday morning. Around 5:30 a.m. The little dog in the apartment directly below me is yapping like crazy. He normally yaps only a few times in the evening and then I never hear from him again. But right now he won't stop.

I get up and fix myself a cup of spring water and get back in bed. I see the morning is starting to light up. It means that although I have just been awakened prematurely by a little two pound dog, things could be worse--it could be three a.m. or something like that.

I get back in bad hoping his owners will do something, like take him out for a pee or something, but it doesn't stop. I have a sense that there are no owners downstairs. Just that poor dog yapping away. I'm not only upset that my beauty sleep has been disturbed, but you can't help but feel for the poor dog.

I put on my sweatpant over my boxers, a light sweater, and my sneakers, and I walk out of my apartment. The building administrative office is theoretically open 24 hours a day. I decide to talk to them and have them call the landlord.

I arrive at the basement where the office is, but it looks locked. I walk a few doors down and ask a building employee if they are open. She walks me to the door and as we approach it, it opens.

A skinny middle-aged guy who needs a shave and a shower appears. He looks like he just woke up about 17 seconds ago. He asks me what's up and I walk into his office with him.

"The dog in the apartment below me won't stop barking. Call the landlord," I say. I tell him the apartment number.

"Oh, they are leaving today," he says, as if that is going to help me or the poor dog. "And I can't call the landlord, he's not going to come," he says very grouchily.

"Well, the dog is not going to stop," I say. "Call the landlord!"

He repeats what he just said, except this time he loses his temper. It's not worth it for me to get upset at him. He makes $250 a month to sleep in this dungeon and probably has to deal with all the drunk Korean kids in the building. I'm not going to waste my energy fighting with him.

As I leave I tell him that if I hear the dog tonight, I'm coming back.

Then, suddenly, I turn around, grab him by the neck, slam him against the wall. As he whimpers, I say in perfect Beijing dialect, "If I hear that little dog tonight, your ass is going to roast like a local delicacy, got it?"

Well, just kidding about that last paragraph, but it felt good to write it.

I get back to my apartment and the dog is still yapping away. I've no choice but to begin my day. I get dressed for my taiji practice and then go outside to do my stretches and a few sets.

As I exercise, I remember that a friend of mine was looking at the apartment below me in the last few days and was using the real estate agency on the first floor of my building. By now, I have figured out what is going with little Yappy. His owners moved out of the apartment early this morning and have abandoned him. They're not coming back.

After my taiji, I walk over to the real estate office (believe it or not, its a Century 21 office like we have in the States), full of pimply 25 year-old boys in yellow Century 21 sportcoats who like to smoke. I ask them if they know apartment 1409. They say yes. I tell them that the tenants moved out this morning and abandoned their pet.

(I tell them that when I moved into my apartment, I found an abandoned pet--a turtle--behind my TV, after about my third day in the apartment.)

They are apparently moved by my story and one of them says he'll call the landlord. As he is speaking to the landlord on his cell, one of the guys turns to me and says, "I really respect you--you care for that dog." His colleague chimes in, "No, he just is upset about the dog making too much noise!"

I laugh with them, "My first priority is the dog, second is my sleep! Of course!"

One of the boys seems excited and says to the other, "I'll take the dog and raise him!"

Their colleague gets off the phone with the landlord and tells me that the landlord's going to send someone with a key over to get the dog. I'm really appreciative and thank them all.

I come back to the apartment and make some tea and breakfast. The dog keeps at it. I decide I better leave because I can't bear to hear that poor dog and his cries for help.

I return to my building in the afternoon, open the door to my apartment, walk in and wait a few seconds. Fortunately, it's quiet.