The Trouble With Neighbours
They’d thought it was their dream home – until the dog next door started to bark…
Lizzie peeped between the wooden slats of the blind. Even in the dim light of the early evening, she could see Mr Hazel in lively debate with someone on his front doorstep.
It was a young man swinging a charity collection box, and he didn’t look happy.
Mr Hazel’s dog didn’t sound too happy either, Lizzie noted. He was barking up a storm in the room behind.
She slid her hand around the edge of the blind and opened up the window.
“Dogs like that shouldn’t be allowed!” the man exclaimed loudly.
“He’s my guard dog,” Mr Hazel replied.
“Well, he frightened the pants off me. I only rang the bell.”
“And my dog only barked. That’s what guard dogs do!” Mr Hazel returned.
“He sounded like he was going to burst through the window!”
Mr Hazel muttered something under his breath, waved the man away and went back inside.
Lizzie saw the young man write down the house number.
He won’t be back, she thought wryly.
Later that evening, she told Jem about the incident.
“The dog does bark very loudly,” he mused. “Perhaps if Mr Hazel took it out more often, it wouldn’t be bellowing like a thing possessed when someone knocks at the door.”
Lizzie was forced to agree; the dog did seem to bark at the slightest noise.
When she and Jem had first purchased the cottage, it had seemed like a dream come true. It was a restoration project but they didn’t care; it was everything they’d ever wanted.
Albert Hazel had been keen to introduce himself, telling them he was glad the house was no longer empty.
“Too quiet,” he’d told them. “Been nobody living there for years.”
The work had taken longer than they’d expected and they’d been grateful to him for keeping an eye on the place while it was being completed.
It was only when their builder, Barry, handed back the keys that they’d first learned about Mr Hazel’s dog.
“I’m guessing you like big dogs then?” he’d asked them with a twinkle in his eye.
“Not really,” Jem had said, mystified. “Me and Lizzie prefer cats.”
Barry had thrown back his head and laughed long and loud.
“I don’t think you’ll be keeping a cat here when you’ve heard the hell hound next door.”
“What on earth is he talking about?” Jem had asked Lizzie as they watched Barry drive away. “I’ve never seen a dog.”
They’d spent the rest of the day moving in, a slow and laborious process of lifting and carrying and unpacking, but with the last of their belongings tidied away, they’d settled down in front of the fire to spend a cosy first evening in their own home.
“Shall we have champagne to celebrate?” Lizzie had asked Jem.
He’d grinned back at her and disappeared into the kitchen. The next sound Lizzie heard was a champagne cork popping like a firework.
It was followed by the roar of a very angry dog.
Jem came running from the kitchen. “It can’t be…?” he exclaimed.
“It must be,” Lizzie had gasped. “Mr Hazel’s dog!”
It was the pattern of things to come. As soon as the sun went down, the dog seemed to wake up and any and every loud noise sent it into a frenzy of barking.
“I can’t stand much more of this,” Jem told Lizzie one evening.
“Perhaps if we speak to him?”
“What’s he going to do? You can’t exactly take the bark out of the dog.”
“I’ll ask him nicely,” Lizzie said.
Of course, the dog barked as soon as she rang the bell. Mr Hazel opened the door and peered out at her, then a smile of recognition lit up his face.
“Hello, Mr Hazel. It’s about the dog…”
“Is it too loud?” he said at once. He peered over his shoulder into the room behind him. He turned back to Lizzie and offered an apologetic smile.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “My nephew, Sam, he’s coming round tomorrow, he might be able to help.”
Lizzie reported the good news to Jem, but he was unconvinced.
“I’ll believe it when I don’t hear it!” he said.
The following day, Lizzie kept a lookout for Mr Hazel’s nephew.
Unsurprisingly, his arrival late in the afternoon was announced by loud barks. She quickly made her way outside.
Mr Hazel opened the door to Sam. His dog was bounding energetically up and down the front garden.
“Calm down, Cookie!” he shouted.
Cautiously Lizzie approached the fence. This was the first time she’d seen the dog – a big German Shepherd that gazed up at her with an intense stare.
Sam grabbed hold of its collar.
“He’s just excited,” he called over to Lizzie. “I’ll take him inside.”
“We don’t want to be a nuisance,” she called back to him as he led the dog into the house. “It’s just the barking. If you could find some way to keep him quiet, we’d really appreciate it.”
Sam stared back blankly at her, and then a smile spread slowly over his face. He gave her the thumbs-up sign and then closed the door behind him.
When Jem got home, she told him, “I think it’s sorted. It’s a huge dog, but Mr Hazel’s nephew seemed confident that he could do something about it.”
It seemed the problem had been resolved because the rest of evening passed without a bark or a yelp or a howl.
The peace didn’t last, however.
That very night the barking started all over again. It woke Lizzie from a deep sleep. She curled herself around Jem and waited for it to stop, but it didn’t stop.
She felt Jem stiffen.
“Why is it making all that noise?”
Lizzie sat up in bed and switched on the light.
“I’m going next door to investigate,” Jem said and threw on some clothes.
“I’m coming with you,” Lizzie said.
In the cottage next door, the dog continued to bark when Lizzie rang the bell and knocked loudly.
Lizzie pushed open the metal flap but before she had a chance to speak, she heard a faint voice calling, “Help! Help me!”
She turned to Jem.
“It’s Albert. Something must have happened!”
She shouted through the letterbox, “We’re going to help you but we can’t get in.”
“There’s a key,” he shouted back at her. “Under the big blue flower pot.”
Jem grabbed Lizzie’s arm. “What about the dog?” he said.
She hesitated for a moment.
“We’ll just have to chance it,” she said.
Cautiously they let themselves into the cottage.
Cookie was still barking like a lunatic but there was no sign of him in the hallway.
“I’m in the kitchen,” Mr Hazel called.
He was lying on the floor, his face pale and etched with pain.
“I think I’ve broken my leg,” he said. “I tried to get up but I can’t move.”
Lizzie rushed to his side.
“Don’t even try to move,” she told him.
“I’ll call for an ambulance,” Jem said. He glanced nervously around the room. “Where’s Cookie, Mr Hazel?”
“Cookie?” he said.
“Your dog,” Lizzie said. “He woke us.”
A faint smile touched the corners of Mr Hazel’s mouth.
“That’s Sam’s dog.”
“But we thought…” Lizzie began.
He shook his head.
“When they moved out next door, I didn’t feel safe here on my own so Sam got me the guard dog alarm.”
“You mean you haven’t got a dog?”
“No. It’s a little black box with a sensor on it. Goes off like a good ’un.
“Sam said I had to switch it off but it makes me feel safe at night. That’s why I came down.
“I switched it on, came in here to make a cup of tea but all of sudden it started up and I fell over.”
Lizzie took his hand.
“Well, now you’ve got us to keep an eye on you, Mr Hazel.”
She smiled up at Jem. “Who said you can’t take the bark out of the dog?”
We’re sharing a lovely dog-themed story from our archives every Monday and Thursday throughout September. Don’t miss the last one on Monday – and look out for our spooky series coming in October!
