Barking dog in a fenced yard, yelling “HEY! Hey hey hey hey HEY!” three times, four times, with no breakdown, neither in bark nor fence. Didn’t Joshua use trumpets to crumble Jericho’s walls? Poor dog—a trumpet is what it hasn’t got. All it has is boredom, and loneliness, and a persistent hope that the next bark will be call-and-response hollered back, or will tumble the lock on the gate until it opens, or even possibly conjure a squirrel down from a neighboring tree. The next bark will surely do it—until it forgets to bark, puts its nose into the wind, listens to the approaching thunder.