Cafe Curtains

Never say never, as my mother would tell us.
I’ve never wanted café curtains: if a prowler is taller than 5 feet (and what prowler isn’t), he’s going to be looking in from the dark scary night to our lighted home, anyway. Curtaining the bottom two-thirds of the window blocks sunlight and my view of what’s happening outside (a rabbit crosses the lawn, a squirrel considers hacking off a geranium head for his lunch, and decides it resembles cauliflower: don’t bother). But just lately, with the noise aspect of the house, I’m thinking café curtains are not as evil as their pseudo French origins.

They’d keep the dogs from looking out. Dogs behave on the pack mentality: you bark, I bark, we all bark. You have a treat, I want it, and of course it’s mine. We can have three dogs barking, but their combined din sounds like thirty, reverberating off the uncarpeted floor (with all those little feet tracking in dirt, who needs carpeting).
Curtains would keep the squirrels feeling safer, the grass able to blow without canine commentary, and the human lives quieter. Quiet is good.