If Birds Barked

On nightingales, noisy neighbours, and one very lucky Cavalier King Charles

May 09, 2026

Good morning,

Sitting here listening to the nightingales singing to each other in the garden, I said to my husband that it’s just as well birds don’t bark. I said this because we have a new neighbour here in Spain, a football player for Girona FC, who is probably nice enough, but who has two dogs.

Now, I love dogs. I really do. We’ve had many dogs over the years, and yes, Barney, our Bearded Collie was a bit of a barker. But we lived in an old farmhouse far from any crowd who might get mad at us over Barney’s loud voice. Also, he only barked when people walked past the courtyard, and sure, when he did, Simba, our Lhassa Apso rescue, would join in. I don’t think little Tom ever did, because he was an angel Yorkie. As for Leo, our Cavalier King Charles, well, he was usually sound asleep, snoring away, to even notice any passers-by.

Leo was our last dog, and he left us after having suffered from heart disease during the last few years of his life. Cavaliers often have heart disease, apparently, which is ever so sad. I still miss Leo. He was such a gentle, butterball of a soul, and definitely the most laidback dog we ever had. Imagine this: he once got the tuft of hair at the very tip of his willy stuck under my daughter’s horse’s hoof, and didn’t make a fuss, just waited patiently for Kwintus to set him free again! Also, he got very, very lucky!!! Yikes!

Anyway, we have Spanish nightingales. Spanish, because we are in our Spanish house, and they are singing from Spanish trees. Next door, the football player has two dogs; a Doberman and a funky-mix who both have very loud voices and are not afraid to use them whenever anyone walks by the bottom of the garden. And since the bottom of the garden gives onto the golf course…well, there are plenty of people walking by pushing golf carts or driving buggies. The dogs bark at the gardeners too, and at us if we go and sit by our swimming pool. And yes, I know this sounds horribly like Forrester problems (first-world, like in ‘The Bold and The Beautiful’ soap), but…woof and grrr!

Also, the pong of the doggies’ morning poop wafting through the hedge tends to overpower the aroma of my hazelnut Nespresso. What else, indeed.

My husband, who is a huge fan of football, a staunch Girona supporter and currently a little peeved by the club’s crappy performance this season, went over to talk to the lovely young defender or attacker or whatever he is about the barking. Apparently, the Doberman sat politely by the young man’s side, butter wouldn’t melt and all that, while the other…well, I don’t know what the other one did. There were apologies on both sides, and Mr Girona FC promised to try to get his dogs to be a little less vocal, which they somewhat have. If Girona gets demoted, the footballer will probably leave anyway and go somewhere else. According to my husband, he’s getting on a bit, so doesn’t have many years left to spend kicking balls.

Maybe he’ll become a Doberman trainer…

Meanwhile, the nightingale has decided that daytime singing is far more fun, and is vocalizing like Mariah Carey.

Can you imagine the racket if birds barked?

Listen here:

Have a lovely weekend!

With love and gratitude,

Francesca xx