I’d like to strangle the asswipe who first added doorbells to commercials. As all dog owners can attest, their pets can’t distinguish a doorbell on TV from one ringing at their own homes. Every time some television delivery person rings a bell, canines throughout the land undoubtedly behave exactly like ours: barking like hell while romping around maniacally.
You’d think the world was ending from the way Prometheus reacts to doorbells. Whenever he hears one, real or simulated, he runs over anyone and anything blocking his path in a mad dash to the front door. I can’t count the number of times I’ve spilled drinks on the couch because the critter bludgeoned my arm in his haste to see who’d come a calling. And the nonstop barking! He may be a little guy, but I could swear he’s caused more damage to my eardrums than all the rock concerts I’ve attended.
According to my wife, the dog’s berserk romps grow even worse when he’s confined on our bed. It’s too high for him to get down on his own, so he can’t obey his instinct to rush toward the door at the sound of a bell. Instead, he complements his barks with frantic leaps across the comforter, including atop Sophia’s head! I’m not usually present when the two of them watch TV in bed together, so I haven’t personally seen him in action, until last night.
Having at last witnessed the dog’s response to a TV doorbell whilst in bed, I can confirm that Sophia didn’t exaggerate his wild behavior. I only wish I’d been farther removed when observing his shenanigans. Unfortunately for me, at the moment the television doorbell announced the arrival of a pizza pie, I happened to be enjoying certain conjugal privileges with my wife. It wasn’t the resultant barking which killed the mood for the rest of the evening, and probably for the foreseeable future as well. Nope; what torpedoed the merest thought of sex was the manic rampage accompanying Prometheus’ barking … over my bare butt cheeks, with nails obviously in need of clipping.