Where do the ideas for your comic strip come from?

Rome, NY, today, lunchtime.
I pull into my driveway…get out of my car, walk to the corner to retrieve the empty trash cans and recycling bins.  Upon gathering said receptacles, I look up, about to turn and head back up the driveway.

But, not today.

When I look up, something caught the corner of my eye.  Two rapidly moving objects.  UFOs? No. My neighbor’s dogs…running on the lawn across the street as if they didn’t have a care in the world…as if, the gate to their yard had been left open.  Sure enough, it was open.  I’m not usually the one watching a dog run by… I’m usually the one running after the dog… who shall remain nameless.. LUCY.  Almost by instinct, I drop the cans and do a Usain Bolt across the road toward the happy canines.  Did I look both ways before crossing the road?  Of course I didn’t.

The family across the street has a gigantic lawn…with a small pond next to it.

Where do you think the dogs were headed?  Yup.  The pond.

Now, ordinarily, these two dogs bark and bark and bark at me through the fence.  Remembering this, I approached them with extreme caution… wishing to retain all ten of my fingers.  I pleaded with them to stay away from the pond and follow me back to the safety of their yard.  Shockingly, my powers of persuasion were in exemplary shape today and I was able to herd the AWOL canines back across the road.  One of them, I assume as a sign of gratitude for my selflessness, left a biological deposit under the cherry tree on my front lawn.  When the pipes of his Milk Bone highway were clean, he contently trotted back behind his fence.  I tied the gate shut… putting my shoe tying expertise to good use in the process.

I knocked on the front door of the neighbor’s house.  She answered.  As I began recounting the tale of my humbly heroic lunchtime crusade, a voice from the inner reaches of the house rang out…

“Is that BOB THE SQUIRREL?”

No sooner did the sound reach my ears, there, standing before me, was the mother of my neighbor…seemingly awestruck by my presence.
“I just LOVE Bob the Squirrel!  It’s the first thing I read in the paper everyday.”  I coaxed a smile out of my face and thanked her warmly.  She extended her hand out, wanting to shake the hand that draws Bob.

” I can’t believe I met Frank Page!”

My neighbor, knowing how ordinary I really am, but refusing to pop the bubble that presently was her mother said, “I’ll get his autograph for you later.”

We laughed again, I was thanked again and just like that half of my lunch was over.  A small price to pay for the safe return of two animals and being made to feel like I was Bill Watterson.

And this, my friends, is where comic strip ideas come from.