Sometimes the big issues stick with you

     (The following column first appeared in The Carroll County Times and was later incorporated into a collection under The Great Tomato Seed Wars, 1994)

     Edward R. Murrow mad a name for himself covering the Battle of Britain.
     Walter Cronkite gave journalism a good name when he was considered the most trusted man in America as anchor of the CBS Evening News.
     Woodward and Bernstein made journalism infamous when they brought down a president and changed history.
     Me? I get to write about such rip-snorting issues as doggie do.
     "When are you going to write an editorial about the deplorable situation in my neighborhood?" demands this one particularly pushy reader who has somehow slipped past security to appear at my desk as I am in the middle of my morning coffee. "You need to get on the stick and speak out against people who let their dogs run loose on other people's property. And I'm not the only one who thinks so!"
     Now, if you have been in this business as long as I have, you know that when somebody says, "I'm not the only one who thinks so," they are seriously upset.
     That means if you don't do something, and fast, you will be voted out of office, or be afflicted with a cancelled subscription, or a note will be sent home to your mother.
     I ask, earnestly, "What seems to be the problem?" I was required to attend sensitivity training on how to listen attentively when dealing with irate people. They desperately need to know that others feel their angst.
     "Well, we have laws in this county about dogs staying on their own property, don't they? But my neighbor ignores them!" He shows me the sole of his shoe.
     Irate people, especially those with the source of their irritation still freshly attached to their shoes, tend to speak a lot in italics and exclamation points.
     I suggest he contact animal control.
     "Did that! They said to talk to my neighbor, but that doesn't work."
     My visitor is becoming increasingly agitated, waving his hands and stamping his feet. I reach for the Kleenex in case he bursts into tears. He looks at the box and misreads my intent.
     "Absolutely NOT! If anybody follows the dog around with a box of tissues, it will be the owner, not me!"
     "Why don't you just calm down," I suggest, gently, I think. "Lots of people have the same problem. You just have to make allowances. I have a dog in my neighborhood who must be on a diet of sawdust and dynamite. That, or we have an elephant in our midst."
     He chastises me for taking him lightly. I should be cursed with living in the midst of a doggie minefield, I am shirking my responsibilities as a protector of the populace.
     "You should write one of your patented, scathing, world-changing, prize-winning editorials to call attention to the number one public menace of our time!"
     Really? I think -- to myself, being earnest in my attempts at sensitivity. So when did this pass issues like AIDS and President Clinton's plans for health care?
     He props his shoe on the corner of my desk. "Don't belittle this issue. This is not to be trivialized! Have you ever seen what (doggie do) does to a pair of kids' $160 sneakers? There are more ridges, treads, nooks and crannies in the soles of those shoes--"
    "Okay, I get the picture."
    "I spent TWO HOURS the other night sitting on the curb with a mask, goggles, rubber gloves and a box of toothpicks!"
    "Maybe you could put up a fence."
    "A fence? Why should I have to put up the money for a fence? I have rights. I am an American! Maybe I should just shoot the dog. What happens if I shoot the dog? Not to kill him, just to scare him?"
     "While you are in jail, the dog will be laughing at you. And getting that much farther ahead of you in your little war. He may even invite his friends over; dogs have a way of designating one yard in the neighborhood as the place to go, no pun intended." I am aware that I am losing my grip on being consoling. My sensitivity training, the lessons in tact, are failing me.
     "Write the editorial! Sound the warning! Armageddon is here unless my neighbor keeps his dog on his own property! Alert the Humane Society, the County Commissioners, the appropriate law enforcement officials! One more bombing raid on my yard by that incontinent pooch and it will be another Bosnia, another Beirut, another Desert Storm!"
     Time to wrap this up. "I can see you're upset," I say -- earnestly. "Let me place a call to The President and see if he can send an emissary, or failing that, a peace-keeping mission. He could deploy troops, set up a perimeter around your yard."
     He looks at me. "What, are you nuts!"