Lord Barksalot and King Dooce

I don't understand something. When I bark, and it does not matter the time of day, Brad and/or Julie are on me like orange on The Orange Effer to stop barking. Immediately. I must stop barking or risk severe and harsh punishment. So severe and harsh that it makes me quiver and shake in my boots. I, Howard, risk not getting a treat when I come in the door from outside.

HOWEVER, the barking damn fool next door can bark his fool head off all evening long. He barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks until it pisses even me off, and I Howard have the patience of a saint. Quit laughing! I am patient damn you!

Brad and Julie have had it. What should they do? I am seeking your advice for my owners.

In other news, the Dooce Family has another Dooce to ignore and not feed or give fresh water to. The original Dooce got loose and has never been seen again. Godspeed old Dooce. May you be living it up like the King of the Castle you always deserved to be!