So Glad I Am a Goody Two-Shoes

In spite of what my wife tells everyone every day, I am not a perfect person. When our kids were small, I used to hide the best cookies from them so I could eat them myself after they were in bed. And then there were many other sins, such as … Oh, wait a minute, that was the only crime I have ever committed. One time I did check out the two pillows on our bed and gave my spouse the flatter one, but what self-respecting husband hasn’t done that?

But whether I’m a good guy or not, here is something I have never done in my 68 years. I have never tried to crawl through the doggy door of a stranger’s home. Not sure why I never have done that. I guess the opportunity never came up. Not saying I would never do that.

And yet, this is exactly what a pitcher for the San Diego Padres was recently arrested for. He was taken to jail, charged and released on a $100 bond. Reading that, I am glad that I was not in his situation because I would not be able to afford to pay the bond.

The police description of the incident is enough to raise the hair on your head, which makes me grateful not to have any. Shortly before 4 a.m. on Sunday, the pitcher started crawling through the doggy door. He did not receive a great greeting. The homeowner kicked him in the face after which, another baseball player pulled the pitcher out of the door. But before they could get away, the homeowner reached through the doggy door and shocked the pitcher in the back with a stun gun.

The pitcher explained to police that he thought he was at his own home even though none of the entrances to his house have doggy doors. The charging documents state that the pitcher was “not considered to be sober” at the time of the incident.

Man, I am so very glad I am not a sinner!

©2019 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.