Some days, I work from home.
Some days, I try to work from home.
And some days, I resign myself to the fact that my dachshund is actually the one running the house.
Because he will bark. At. Nothing.
A speck of dust? Bark.
A leaf that dared to rustle 40 feet away? Full-throated outrage.
The wind changing directions? Bark bark woof.
But here’s the twist: while I know he’s barking at nothing, I’ve come to understand that to him, it’s everything.
Every creak, every flash of light, every imagined danger — he takes it all personally. His hypervigilance is almost… poetic.
And honestly, don’t we all do the same?
We stress over the tone in an email. Replay that weird thing we said in a meeting three years ago. Worry about what hasn’t even happened. We bark too. Just quietly, internally.
Truth: Sometimes the bark isn’t about what’s out there — it’s what’s inside. And just maybe, we could all use a little less barking… or at least a nap between woofs.
Categories: Culture, current events, family, identity, mental health, Psychology, society, work
psychologistmimi 
My hound Cooper thinks he has two jobs. Whenever my wife or I get up to leave the room, he feels it’s his responsibility to escort us, walking in front of us like a pace car. He doesn’t always get the intended destination right but overall has a winning track record. His second job is to protect us and the property, which means he barks at every person, dog or random noise.
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Aww, Cooper sounds like a great hound!
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