An open letter

Dear Buddy, Coco and unidentified yelping black dog,
I recognize that you can't read. But I'm putting my frustrations to paper in case you are more intelligent than I've given canines credit.
I've had my share of interesting roommates (the stripper with seizures and the unemployed shopaholic with an unhealthy affection for all things Nabisco, for instance). But I've never had any trouble with neighbors...until recently.
I know you're lonely and perhaps a little depressed about the fact you're dogs. Plus you don't have a lot of unique characteristics going for you. You're dogs with the most common names imaginable. (My guess for random black dog's name is Shadow or Lucky.)
I also recognize that you've been latch-key dogs for most of your existence. But don't forget, you do have each other to chase and play fetch with.
But I need to say it, (because I'm too much of an unconfrontational sort to tell your owners)...you're making life unbearable on this side of the fence.
That is, what's left of it.
With your incessant, round-the-clock cries of desperation, you've pummeled our adjoining fence, stripping it into mangled pieces of wood. Not only is not longer aesthetically pleasing, but it's also no longer safe for tiny digits like those belonging to our kids.
This has meant numerous trips to the lumber yard to repair the fence you've destroyed. Oh, and we get to hear your deafening yells as Eric makes said repairs. It's like you think you're the Sam Kinisons of the canine realm, except with even more of a grating pitch and no funny jokes.
Buddy, you in particular, need to work on your tone of bark. You've become vicious. I know you're upset that I paid $40 for the high-pitched device to control your barking. I had to do something though. I can no longer stomach your oppositional and defiant behavior.
Please let me know if a Milk-Bone or an electric fence would do the trick.
Feel free to email me if you're able or just give me a shout...over the fence. I know you will.
Sincerely,
Genoa