I don't give a fuck what you do if you do your job correctly. You could come in late, leave early, drink bottomless mint julips in the break room, and drop acid, for all I care. But do your job correctly.
There were ongoing complaints to the cops about what the neighbor was doing to his goat long before the Mr Hands incident prompted my state's lawmakers to finally patch the loophole in the law that made that legal. I mean, who cares about one neighborhood of regular people here-and-there complaining about a creep in their midst?