Dear Evelyn, I’ve been a reader for three years and never thought I’d be writing in, but here we are. There is something living in the drainage ditch behind our subdivision — behind the Walgreens, specifically, where the concrete culvert goes under Sheridan. I’ve never seen it directly, obviously, because of the nature of the thing, but I can feel it watching when I walk Biscuit in the evenings, and twice now I’ve caught movement at the very edge of my vision that stops the moment I try to focus on it. Classic Hidebehind behavior, as best I can tell from your archives. The problem is Biscuit — she’s a four-year-old golden retriever — has decided this creature is her friend. She started leaving things at the culvert entrance: a tennis ball, one of her rope toys, and last Thursday, an entire uncooked hot dog she must have gotten off the counter. I didn’t see her take it. Biscuit has never shown aggression toward it, and frankly seems delighted by the arrangement. My concern is twofold: I don’t want to discourage whatever social contract Biscuit seems to have negotiated on our behalf, but I also don’t want to accidentally escalate things by letting her continue unchecked. What do I do? — Margot H., Tulsa

I’ve received quite a few letters this week, and I want to address the most pressing concerns before anything else — Margot, yours is at the top of the pile, and I’m pleased to say this situation is more manageable than you might fear.

First, let me say: Biscuit is doing something genuinely intelligent. Dogs, and goldens in particular, have a social instinct that cuts right through the kind of anxious hesitation that gets humans into trouble with reclusive entities. She has opened a line of communication that you, frankly, could not have opened yourself. The Hidebehind is, at its core, a creature of avoidance — it does not want confrontation, it wants proximity on its own terms. Biscuit has understood this instinctively and responded with the most disarming possible gesture: a rope toy and, eventually, a hot dog. That is diplomacy. Do not punish her for it.

Now, your two concerns. I’ll take them in order.

Practically speaking, what you want to do is regularize the gifting rather than stop it. Spontaneous, counter-surfed hot dogs are unpredictable — in my experience managing an arrangement very similar to this one along a creek easement in western Pennsylvania, irregular offerings tend to create an uneven dynamic, where the entity begins to anticipate escalation rather than routine. Routine is your friend. Set a small, consistent gift at the culvert entrance three times a week — nothing elaborate. A hard-boiled egg. A piece of plain bread. Something Biscuit can carry herself, so the social contract remains hers to maintain. This normalizes the relationship without suggesting you are attempting to curry favour or, worse, summon anything. You are simply being a decent neighbour.

The second thing — and I want you to write this down — is that you must leave one item that belongs to neither you nor Biscuit. Something found, not purchased. A smooth stone from a parking lot, a feather, a twist of dried grass. Place it with Biscuit’s gift on the first Tuesday of each month. I cannot explain the mechanism, but I can tell you with complete confidence that this signals you are aware of the arrangement without being intrusive about it, and Hidebehinds respond well to that particular acknowledgment. They are not unreasonable. They simply dislike being made the subject of direct attention. The found-object offering respects that.

I should mention — this puts me in mind of a letter from a reader in Shreveport two springs ago, a similar ditch situation, though that one involved a sheepdog and a considerably more complicated gift economy that eventually included a soup thermos. We got it sorted. The point is, Biscuit has given you a genuine advantage here, and the worst thing you can do is squander it by overcorrecting.

Your evening walks should continue. Do not look toward the culvert directly. A slight, deliberate turn of the head — enough to indicate awareness, not enough to constitute observation — is entirely appropriate. Biscuit will handle the rest.

You are in good hands. Hers, specifically.