Grumpus Bialczak will now officially begin this civics lesson.

We’ll start with a multiple choice question:

The green space in the accompanying photo looks like:

A) An empty lot between two Eastwood houses.

B) A green space that neighbors sometimes use when special summertime occasions yield a guest list too large for just one yard.

C) A mid-block dog park, the perfect place to let your pooch do what city-living pooches need to do.

Those of you who answered A and B, I’ll talk to you over the fence anytime.

Those of you who answered C, please stop treating the empty lot between my house and my neighbor’s house as your personal dog park. Norwood Park is only a half-block away, with plenty of lawn for your leashed dog to investigate.

My neighbor owns the plot, and is gracious enough to let others use the bonus green space for lawn chairs, portable tables and running children at times of need.

The discovery of a quick-and-easy spot to walk your dog does not fit that definition. The lot is backed by a fence, so it’s not a short cut to anywhere. And every time a dog is allowed to wander the lot, Ellie B and Max go nuts. You can hear my dog and the neighbor’s dog barking, whether they’re in their own fenced-in yards or inside.

Some people don’t care. In Eastwood, I envision the canine protocol and follow it strictly: While Walking Ellie B, aka Dogamous Pyle, I stay in the street. This allows Ellie B lawn space equal to the short length of her leash to sniff as we wind our way through the neighborhood. Two plastic bags are always ready in my pocket for those times when, well, you get the picture. Poop happens.

But others are unaware or just don’t care.

True stories:

•One mid-twenties fellow walked his dog a foot or two away from everybody’s house, the length of our block. “Hey, these are our yards,” I yelled out to him in amazement. He and Fido took to the street, but I kept finding dirty business on our lawn. Suspicious, I watched man and beast walk away from one such instance without him bagging it. When I called out that the law says he should pick up after his dog, he dashed up the street like a little girl. His poor dog could hardly keep up with him. The day I saw him moving furniture out of the apartment house across the street — with his Mommy! — I stood at my kitchen window and applauded.

•Another guy, same approximate age, started walking his dog all around the empty lot, prompting Ellie B and our neighbor’s dog, Max, to launch into their barking barrage. When I stepped out to politely inform him that this wasn’t a dog park, this guy didn’t run. No, he found it more suitable to sternly tell me it was none of my business. I told him why it certainly was. Neither of us walked away happy. But we did walk away, and he and pooch did not return to the empty lot.

Now this week, we’re treated to new people and dog walking the lot like they own it. At night, the husband. In the morning, the wife. Their dog, small, skittish, and certainly not to blame as Ellie B barked furiously at the window. When she’s at the front window and people are walking in the street, I instruct Ellie B to live and let live. She sort of gets it and backs off the recliner, tail wagging. When the offenders are in the empty lot, I tell Ellie B go to it as she bounces around the couch, protecting. When a strange dog is barking at you from a side window, you’re someplace you’re not supposed to be.

So, what’s a citizen in Syracuse to do? The police have more important issues to address. And I’m done with being the bad cop live-and-in-person. Too many unexpected and horrible things can happen these days, says my wise wife, Karen.

Happy to play nice in our little piece of the world, I’m left to wonder: Is pride of community and respect for boundaries too much to expect?