Drunk Steves and the Bark Collar

We first moved into our house on Corby Circle in 2006. A host of interesting neighbors lined the circle, but the most enthralling were Steve and Steve.

The introduction to the Steves is planted firmly in my brain. As we stood in our new yard watching our son play, two men approached. The older of the two put out his hand, "Hi, I'm Steve and this is my partner, Steve."

While Ericka maturely shook his hand, a guffaw escaped my lips.

"I don't know why you're laughing!" exclaimed the large man. "There's nothing wrong with being gay!"

Um, Sir! This lesbian does not find anything funny about your relationship!! I am simply thinking of the Bob Newhart character Larry who had a brother Darryl and his other brother Darryl.

I replied, "I'm sorry I laughed. Do you both go by Steve? How do you know which of you is being spoken too?"

"Oh, that's easy," he proclaimed, "people call me Big Steve and my partner is Little Steve."

I had so many questions. You couldn't go by Steve and Steven? Steve and Steve-O? Steve 1 and Steve 2? Who in the heck is ok with a moniker like Big and Little? Thankfully, none of those thoughts left my brain.

Big Steve and Little Steve proved to be good neighbors, and they helped us with several projects. We often had them over for a drink on the back porch after our son went to bed. It was on just such a night that the bark collar became a matter of discussion.

There are a few things one must know about Big and Little to better understand this story. Big Steve received a medical retirement due to mental health issues. He also liked to drink several whiskey Cokes out of a thirty-two-ounce tumbler. Little Steve exhibited low intelligence and drank from a matching tumbler after he returned home from work. Together, their behavior confirmed a new and exciting level of bizarreness.

One summer evening the four of us sat on the back deck. The men complimented us on our quiet dogs, Divot and Lulu. Ericka explained that Divot was naturally quiet, but Lulu wore a bark collar to control her obnoxious little dog barking.

The Steves owned three dachshunds; Gidget barked the loudest and most often. They wondered if the bark collar would work for Gidget and worried the small shocks might hurt her.

As a puppy, Lulu had been trained with a box that created a high-pitched beep to curb her barking during kennel time. When she graduated from the kennel, we placed the bark collar on her whenever she went outside. She only barked a few times when we first placed it on her, so it never went beyond a slight buzz to the low-level shock.

Little Steve wasn't convinced, so he decided to put the collar on himself. When he spoke, it buzzed. He found this hilarious and burst out laughing. The collar quickly kicked the buzz up to a shock. He laughed harder. It shocked him a few more times. Finally, the drunken fool took off the collar and rubbed his neck while guzzling whiskey Coke.

After more whiskey and discussion, Big Steve asked if they could try the collar on Gidget. Please note, Gidget takes after Little Steve in her ability to learn from stimuli. They placed the collar on Gidget and placed her on the deck.

Gidget barked. The buzz startled her, so she barked again. And again. And again. Chaos ensued as Gidget shot off the deck and commenced running around our huge yard yapping frantically.

The Steves bolted after her yelling. They screamed -- she howled -- we snorted!

Poor little Gidget finally collapsed in agony. Big Steve crumpled beside her and ripped the collar off. Calm descended upon Obner State Park.

Moral of the story: don't drink and bark!