Professional baseball is halfway to the All-Star break, it's 90-plus degrees most afternoons already, and still the NBA and NHL seasons drag on. Is anybody paying attention? I lost interest as soon as the Denver Thuggets got beat. Isn't it funny how you can call of bunch of overgrown boys with tattoos "thugs" but you can't say anything bad about women basketball players? It's reverse discrimination, if you ask me.

Of course, nobody has.

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Here's a question I have received: Now that summer school is canceled for high-schoolers and dramatically reduced for college students, what do the boys in blue spend their time doing? After all, with so few minors running around -- let alone with cereal malt beverages in their possession -- what's left?

As it turns out, there's an all-out war on those who take part in one of society's most dangerous activities: Ding-dong ditchin'. Surely you've heard of it. You probably did it as a kid. You furtively approach an unsuspecting home-dweller's front door, ring the doorbell and then run like the wind. As you and your buddies gasp for air behind some bushes and try to stifle your snickers, the owner opens the door to greet his visitor. Except nobody's there.

Apparently this prank has grown to crisis proportions. At least for one Hays resident on Olympic Lane whose anger knows no bounds when it comes to repeatedly responding to his own doorbell's ring. There's no report on whether he drooled when the bell rang, but he definitely wasn't happy when there was no reward for his response. So he calls the cops.

The hunt begins for the youth (we'll call him "Cade" to protect his innocence). Somehow in all the zaniness and broken van windows of hot pursuit, one of the officers (we'll dub him "Wade" to protect his innocence) manages to catch a slightly bloody Cade and a few of his juvenile friends.

And then we start to figure out what is what and who is who. Turns out one of the friends (we'll call him Kyle), well, his dad works with Wade's wife. Awkward. And another friend (we'll call him Matthew) is the son of a well-known religious personality in town, well, he managed to evade capture with yet another friend. Can you say "grounded?" I thought you should.

But that's the beauty of living in a small town where real crime is hard to find. And then it turns out the original complainant didn't want to press charges for the ding-dong ditchin'. Maybe it didn't even happen.

But then again ...

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The city commission has been focused lately on determining if any particular breeds of dogs should be banned in town. The usual suspects come to mind: Rottweilers, pit bulls, Dobermans, etc. If you ask me (and, again, nobody has), I think poodles should be added to the list.

You think I'm kidding? I've been bitten by a dog only once in my life, and it was by a cute little curly haired canine named Princess. And yes, it was a poodle. Darn near took a fingernail off. I would've done more than ban that dog if I'd had more access than the slightly rolled-down window I foolishly stuck my hand through. I was just going to pet it. I've hardly been described a dog-lover ever since.

Many of the commissioners are dog-owners themselves. And they realize it's not the dog as much as it is the owner that is deserving of a ban within the city limits. That would be a tough ordinance to author, even if the city attorney wasn't on the trail of a gray whale.

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If we're really looking for some ordinance to enforce, I'd recommend Section 5-92, which deals with animal waste. Here's what it says: "The owner of every animal shall be responsible for the removal of any excreta deposited by his animal on public rights-of-way, recreation areas or private property."

I can't tell you how many piles of said "excreta" I encounter while on evening strolls in the neighborhood or throwing bocce balls around Massey Park. It's disgusting. And it has nothing to do with my fear of poodles. This is all about cleaning up after yourself or your best friend.

It's not that difficult. I know some people who haul around little plastic bags which they deposit in a backpack in their efforts to keep Hays excreta-free. They are to be commended.

For those who choose to leave the treats behind, I think the punishment should be swift -- and appropriate. Much like you rub a dog's nose in his own excreta when he does it on the living room carpet, that's what should be done with dog-owners who ignore Section 5-92. Rub their nose in it. I bet it wouldn't happen more than once.

Of course, nobody asks me for my opinion. But that doesn't stop me from offering it.

Patrick Lowry is editor and publisher of

The Hays Daily News.

plowry@dailynews.net