Incessant.
Yip, Yap, Yip, Yip, Yap, Yip.
Such a loud bark for such a little dog. The town crier finished his speech and dove under flipping up dirt with his tail. He popped back again for another retort. Yip, Yip, Yip. I had been warned. The small hill of prairie dogs spread out over two acres in the middle of town walled off from the children climbing on the stonewall. The dogs didn’t like visitors. Especially, ones who tried to climb over the wall.
A small child, I will call Fred, reached out his hands to clap at the dogs and clapped. This set off another round of Yip, Yapping. The little dogs didn’t like loud noises unless they were the ones making the loud noise. Fred couldn’t climb over the wall, so his father lifted him up to the edge. Fred leaned into the town trying to touch a dog. It was a valiant attempt because the dogs were wild enough to stay clear of the wall.
The child, roughly a two-year-old, laughed and cooed at the dogs. They Yip, Yapped back.
Fred loved it.
© 2019, Michael Shawn Sommermeyer. All rights reserved.
