Next time your dog wants to salute a Geneva fire hydrant with a hind leg, the mutt might reconsider.

After all, it doesn’t want to be arrested for defacing public art.

Batavia grows windmills like overgrown cornstalks; St. Charles positions red foxes over the Fox River like sentries. Soon Geneva will have fire hydrants.

Or, rather, thanks to Art on Fire, fire hydrants so cool you’ll buy a dog just so you have an excuse to gaze at them.

Lately, you might have passed someone kneeling by a hydrant, cleaning it with a steel brush or spray painting it white, blue or fuchsia, their background color before starting their modern day Sistine Chapel – or Viking.

Who’s responsible for these artistic renditions? For me, a writer who loves wordplay, the answer couldn’t be better: Burns. Geneva Mayor Kevin Burns.

“I had the idea for a while,” Burns told me. “Like most good ideas, it’s not really mine, but a variation of similar programs held in other communities. What’s the saying ... ‘Imitation is the greatest form of flattery?’ Owing to some persistence and research on my part, the idea took off – dare I say, I created a spark?”

Yes, the mayor ignited the imaginations of the 52 artists currently transforming boring, red eyesores that only a full-bladdered dog could love into local Mona Lisas. Limited only by the contest’s encouragement that the design suggest a nearby building or event, or reflect Geneva’s heritage or icons, our local Leonardos have until Tuesday to finish.

Why do I, whose stick figures resemble bricks, know about this? In August, my son, Jay, and my wife, Tia, picked up applications, colored-penciled a fire hydrant outline and submitted their drawings.

After the city accepted their designs, they took their acceptance letters to Geneva’s Ace Hardware, picked up their pints of paint, donned old clothes and set out to put art on fire.

Jay’s hydrant, behind the old courthouse, harbors the prow and stern of a Viking ship.

Tia’s hydrant, on Third Street, sandwiched between The Paper Merchant and The Little Traveler, sports a mother owl and owlets, reminiscent of the great horned owls occasionally whoo-whooing in a nearby nest.

“The hydrant’s not exactly the same shape as the application’s outline,” said Tia, brushing clean the old, chipping, red paint one hot Sunday afternoon. “I’ll have to work on my drawing before I begin painting.”

Maybe that’s what art and writing have in common: the process is not so much inspired spontaneity – although that helps – but close attention to revision and detail.

Now nearly finished painting the hydrant, Tia tells me, “People stop all the time to talk. They say what a great idea this is, and that’s why they come to Geneva. There’s always something going on.”

And guess what! These metal canvases will be available for “adoption;” so step it up, dog owners. One or more hydrants can be your pet’s brother or sister, onto which they can release their frustration.

Sure beats a pointed cuspids choke hold.

• Rick Holinger has lived in the Fox Valley where he’s taught high school since 1979. His poetry, fiction, essays, criticism and book reviews have appeared in numerous literary journals, including “The Iowa Review” and “Boulevard.” He founded and facilitates the St. Charles Writers Group and has a Ph.D. in creative writing. Contact him at editorial@kcchronicle.com