The neighbor's chihuahua has been barking ALL FREAKING DAY. This wouldn't be a problem if she installed a babygate or maybe a cement wall in her hallway, preventing the little bugger from standing right by the door where he can be heard by all and sundry. But, she appears to be a hooker so you certainly can't blame her for keeping irregular hours. Weed money doesn't grow on trees.
Richard talked to her about it once, very politely, and she put on this Dorothy act, implying we were going to yank the dog from her arms and stuff him in a bicycle basket, then pedal away cackling into the night. Not that I'm not tempted.
I like dogs as much as the next person - probably even more - but 12 straight hours of "YARP! YARP! YARP!" is too. Much.