As Ralph and Frodo approached, Cornelius Sawyer added extra frown lines to his face. When it came to dog owners and dogs, he had only one opinion – both were bad.

His property, at the end of a small block in the neighborhood northeast of Philadelphia, was itself small and run-down. Nonetheless, morning after morning Sawyer sat on his tilted porch watching the world go by, if people such as Ralph and dogs like Frodo could be called the world.

The old man – Cornelius was 83 – bent forward in his rocker that Saturday morning. For his age, he had remarkably good balance since the rocker added to the porch’s tilt. The sight of the dog caused him to rock more agitatedly.

“I’ll make sure Frodo leaves your place alone, Mr. Sawyer.”

Ralph figured he could walk by the old man’s rhododendron bush and twisted fence if he restrained his Labrador.

“Don’t give me that again. The only way to prevent that dog from peeing is… Well, just take him to the other side of the street.”

Edith Grumly sat on the opposite side of the street. She had a few years on Cornelius Sawyer but was as well-balanced on her uneven porch in her rocker. She’d lived in the neighborhood longer than anyone, so she felt superior.

“Keep that animal on that side. Do you understand, Ralph?”

He understood. He couldn’t go by Sawyer’s property. He couldn’t cross the street. Ralph looked up to the grey clouds – to the heavens from which it is said comes all help.

“Why do I have to live in a neighborhood like this?”

No voice from above answered.

“That’s a good question, Ralph.”

Cornelius Sawyer gave him at least some credit, even if he disliked Ralph and Frodo.

“You know,” shouted Edith Crumley, “I don’t usually agree with Cornelius… But he’s got a point, Ralph…”

She often hoped that all dogs and dog owners might move away – and said so.

It was then that the voice from above, as though from out of a whirlwind, blasted Ralph to the uneven, chipped pavement – “YOU KNOW, I HAVE TO AGREE WITH CORNELIUS AND EDITH, ALTHOUGH I DON’T USUALLY… WHY ARE YOU LIVING HERE?”

Briefly Ralph rolled in the gutter, which was more comfortable than Sawyer’s sidewalk.

“NOW GET UP… LOOK AT WHAT FRODO’S DOING TO THAT RHODODENDRON!”

The voice seemed as upset as Cornelius Sawyer, who had an almost pathological attachment to his bush.

And Edith Grumley?

She knew that Frodo wouldn’t be satisfied with urinating only on Sawyer’s measly rhododendron.

No…

The Labrador was already across the street.

“HEY, CAN ANYONE BELIEVE HOW MUCH FRODO’S GOT LEFT FOR EDITH’S FORSYTHIA?”