It was a Tuesday afternoon when I was expecting my DoorDash delivery, but instead of a Burger King Whopper I got a rope, a wooden chair, a hose, a wood polish brush, hand and arm restraints, and dog treats? “This is not my order, sir,” I tried calling, but he was long gone. I went to my neighbor’s door, it was a long shot, but I wanted to get my hands off of this stuff. A young man wearing a crisp blue polo opened the door. He looked extremely worried and panicked. “I need to do it today, I need to do it today,” he kept mumbling under his breath. I could see sweet beading on his forehead. “It’s not like I want to,” he whispered as if guilty. “By any chance is this stuff yours,” I asked. “He finally noticed what I was holding in my hands. He almost seemed faint in relief. “Oh my god, thank you.” He couldn’t have grabbed the bag faster.

I was out to get my mail. I was still thinking of the items in that bag when I heard it. A yelp and a mirthless shriek. It was coming from my neighbor’s house. My blood ran cold. I was a second away from calling 911 when a dog came bursting through the door. There was rope trailing from his neck and broken restraints flying behind him. Behind him the man from earlier was frantically trying to get his dog to come back. He was waving around a hose and a brush. He dropped both and turned to the dog treats. “Oh what a mess!”