The Ricker protects his property.

Whether it involves a huge dungeon-esque lock on the front door or hooking his Mercedes hood ornament up to his car battery, the Ricker looks out for his stuff. Not surpassingly, he's really protective of the lawn. I've already mentioned the "not walking on the grass rule" but I'll mention it again, because I have probably wasted 0.775% of my life walking around grass instead of walking directly across. However, if you trespass on the lawn, you get fucked with, especially if you are a dog.

The Ricker hated dogs on the lawn. He lives in an area without fences and busy streets, so dogs often wander from house to house, marking their territory. The Ricker hates that, because marking territory often involves killing grass. Besides yelling, stomping and pushing, the Ricker kept a small BB gun on the deck and would "pop" the dogs in the ass if they didn't learn to avoid the lawn. He abstained from shooting at my friends, but I'm sure the thought crossed his mind.