Continuing from two weeks ago, decent people send thank-you notes. They have a sense of adventure — they’ll try the weird sushi. Good people drop loose change in charity jars. They put the milk back in the fridge, and they don’t drink from the carton. Good people plan for the future, but are willing to alter their plans. I’ll explain.

Continuing from two weeks ago, a gentleman always has an extra pen. He carries some sort of breath-improving substance with him. He remembers small facts about his friends (like where in Long Island they’re from) and he chooses those friends wisely (not because of where in Long Island they’re from).

So it’s come to this. I’m defending dog shit.

First of all, let me get one thing straight: I’m just not a pet person. I don’t hate pets and I don’t hate your pet — I’m sure he’s lovely — but at this point in my life, I see no need for four-legged, furry companionship, and at this point in my life I know I’m not at all qualified to care for living things. I’ve had houseplants commit suicide on me.

But given the choice between a cat and a dog, I have to pick man’s best friend because, I believe, caring for dogs (specifically, cleaning up after them) brings out our truest natures. Cats, while soothing, are little more than ottomans who vomit.

Continuing from two weeks ago: a gentleman cuts one piece of food at a time. He orders the steak. He turns his phone off when he gets to class. He stands up to let someone past him into a crowded row of seats. He owns at least two pairs of dress shoes — a brown/burgundy and a black — and he doesn’t own a Hawaiian shirt unless he’s certain he’s the kind of person people know owns a Hawaiian shirt.

If you don’t know if that’s you, ask yourself this: Are you Louie Anderson or are you Wesley Clark? Are you hosting a game show, or are you leveling Belgrade?

But I digress from this week’s focus: A gentleman makes an honest effort to look put-together.

I’ve always loved etiquette books, especially ones that come with lists of arcane tips or guidelines for leading a fuller life. Among my favorite are the following: A gentleman has a crisp, clear handwriting and he holds doors open for his friends. He carries a lighter whether he smokes or not. He reads for fun, and a gentleman makes an honest effort to enjoy those things he doesn’t understand.

It’s August 26th, and on a giant screen I’m watching 15 ruddy-cheeked, chubby 11 year-olds frolic together on a grass field. They lovingly embrace, crying in ecstasy as they roll together on the ground. They wear tight pants and have creepy biblical-but-not-quite-biblical names like Micah and Taylor. They dive all over each other. The rolling goes on for some time.