Not all dogs go to heaven

Advanced citation to the Colbert Report.

Surprise, Surprise. Not only do i suck at spanish, but i am equally sucky at sleeping. Everynight since i´ve been down here, I´ve woken up at 3amish and don´t fall back asleep until 5 or 6am. What is the root of my sleeping problems you may ask..? Is it the olympic sized pool cleaning jets turning on in the not-so-olympic sized pool? No. Is it Silvi staring at me while i sleep? Not really. Global warming? Nope. None of the above (actually, the pool jets do deserve some credit). It is the fact that there are at least two dogs per household in my neighborhood, which results in about 800 dogs within a 1/4 mile radius of the Horta household.

Since i have been in the neighborhood, i don´t think there has been 2 minutes of silence before several dogs go ape shit on their alpo, owners or rubber toy. Throughout the night, there are at least 4 dogs taking shifts howling their asses off. They must have a sign in/out sheet. "Ok Rex, you´re up".. "barK. Bark. BaRk... BArK. bark. bArk"... "Well done friend, I´m up.. Bark. BArK baRk.. Bark. ba. bark.. Oh, i´m slightly parched, Peter: You´re up. Why don´t you rev it up a notch" "BARK, etc." (This is of course said in Spanish).

With varying paces, volumes and quantity of barks, and the occasional mauling of a small dog by the big dogs, you can see how this lends itself to suicidal insomnia. SO Dogs, i am putting you on notice. A few more outbursts like last night and I am sitting each of you down to watch Old Yeller with me.

ON NOTICE: DOGS

For the people reading this post, all 2 of you should be grateful for such items as cereal, engligh muffins, OJ, grits, cream of wheat or any other product that makes up the American breakfast. The term breakfast was supposed to mean "the breaking of the nights fast". I don´t think this translation trickled down to Chile. Here, it´s more like, "Fast more you pussy". For 12 straight days for breakfast, I have eaten a salami and bread sandwich half the size of your computer mouse, a small fruit (although not today) and tea. I am not sure I can take it anymore. Therefore, Salami- you, and all of your fatty pock marks and pig entrails are officially dead to me.

DEAD TO ME: SALAMI

ps. If anyone knows Mr. Finagle (Mr. Bruegger will do too), please inform him that there is a pot of gold sitting 4,993 miles south of where he is.
pps. And tell him i prefer everything bagels.

*mom- i just used suicidal for the effect, and sorry for using the word pussy. (i took the liberty of washing my mouth with soap).