Mad Dogs and Spanishmen

I used to love dogs but that has all changed since moving here and there is one reason why. This reason may sound strange, as if I have only just noticed this attribute, which in a funny way I have. Dogs bark. Amazing I know.
Bear with me because I know you know they bark, and I knew it too but I never took any notice of them doing this until I came to San Sebastian.
Every morning Jose leaves his house at eight thirty to take his dog for a walk, lets call his dog Puta. Jose is in his seventies, his wife died four years ago due to complications with a car and a set of faulty traffic lights. Jose loves his dog, it was a good replacement for his wife, and he enjoys taking Puta down to the beach, throwing a stick a metre into the air and watching Puta walk and pick it up.
I have nothing wrong with this scene, it´s good for the old guy, having a companion, a bit of exercise. It´s all good.
At about nine Jose leaves the beach and with Puta they walk to a little cafe just opposite my flat. Problem is, Puta, god bless him, has to be tied up outside. Now Jose, being retired, has many hours to while away, knocking back coffees and chatting to his mates, completely ignoring the fact that his dog is making a god almighty noise in Calle Ronda. Not for five or so minutes but for an agonizing hour and a half. A constant bark followed by a yelp. Bark, yelp, bark, yelp.
This could be avoided in two ways, three in fact, but the third one is cruel and I could get into trouble.
First, I could get out of bed before Jose and Puta get to the cafe. This is not the point of this blog, if was about getting out of bed in the morning then yeah I´d get stuck into myself, but this affects more people than me alone. The second and I think a more reasonable option would be for Jose to take his dog for a walk, not take the dog for a stroll then tie the fucker outside the boozer for an hour or so and disturbing everybodys peace. It´s a fucking joke if you ask me. The dog is obviously not having a good time, so why don´t you, Jose, take the dog for a walk, dump it at the house then leave and do what the fuck you want, that way, there will be no disturbing anybody, not just the guy lying in bed halfway through a terrific dream.
Then there is the bastard next door.
I won´t go into it as much but this dog, which is neglected by its owners for the best part of the day (weekends included), loves nothing more than to whine, whine like a soft, pampered, bitch which it is.
These dogs are related because they are nothing more than expensive accessories gone wrong, a fashion statement which went out years ago. Everybody seems to have one, although I don´t think everybody has thought through what it takes to have one. Leaving them tied up or alone in the house isn´t the way.
Get a cat, they practically take care of themselves.

Eurovision song contest

Pile of shite, but worth a deek due to the Russian entry, something about popping a cherry and eating pie, quality use of english.