Well, that was embarrassing.

Have you ever felt like events are conspiring to embarrass you? I had one of those moments this past Monday.

I was just bopping along, minding my own business, trying to get back in the swing of things after a week with the inlaws. It's the fourth. I'm the groove. Laundry is on the line. Milk is in the fridge. The grass is now an acceptable length, and the weeds blend in. And a neighbor comes to my gate.

She came up to tell me that my dog had been howling for several hours on end all weekend. She said that making an animal howl that long verged on animal cruelty. He would howl to the point of getting hoarse. There were several other neighbors who were getting annoyed, and she had walked over to my house while recovering from surgery to let me know how they all felt.

This was not just any neighbor. This was the neighbor that I like to think of as the dog advocate lady. She's extremely nice, but I've only spoken to her four times since we moved in five years ago, and three of those times have been related to my dog. She has two beautifully groomed pitbulls that she refers to as Staffordshire terriers (how many people even know that pitbulls are properly called Staffordshire terriers?), and she has that activist look about her that makes me think, "She will tell you what you're doing wrong."

I was mortified because, contrary to appearances, I really do love my dog, and I really do hate to antagonize my neighbors. I apologized up and down and promised to abort Operation Outdoor Dog immediately. She accepted my apology, and after reiterating that dogs shouldn't howl that long several times (I think she felt a little guilty for imposing), she wished me a happy 4th.

Only after she leaves, and I'm extremely grateful for this, do I realize that my t-shirt says, "PLIA 2002: Whatever You Do, Do It in Jesus' Name." Oh. Shoot. Please, Dog Advocate Lady, don't think that I feel entitled to abuse my dog because I'm a Christian. We don't do that. This is not some kind of steward and master of creation complex. I just didn't know he was howling. I was gone. That's why he was outside. Fervently wishing that my abject apology restored whatever esteem I might have destroyed, I remembered pastor's sermon from the day before. He had said, "Our neighbors don't need to see our 'perfection.' They need to see our reliance on God."

For the record, I was trying to acclimate Max to living outside during the summer. I left him outside while I was running errands, and I instructed my neighbor to leave him outside during the day while I was gone visiting family. He had water, food, shade, and a den of sorts, so I was not neglecting him. He did not have to howl, but howling is part of what he does. Obstreperous dog.