With an apartment complex across the street, a university nearby, bus routes, bike paths, and an exercise trail all within walking distance of our house, our corner lot sees a fair amount of pedestrian traffic. Before our landlord went all Paul Bunyan on us, the poorly mulched area that sits to the left of my front door used to have an Oak tree there to provide shade all the way to the street corner. Now, the lack of majesty that sits outside my door these days is now punctuated by a smattering of dog poop dropped not ten feet from my front door. It has to be some pedestrian who uses this street as their route to walk their dog, but I haven’t noticed anyone who walks their dog on regular basis in a while.
The other day, I was driving back home after dropping off the kids at school, wishing I could run into whoever was allowing their dog to drop feces in my yard. I was working out the logistics on how to confront this unknown individual and the appropriate amount of ire to be used. There’s a certain amount of moral leverage in being the one whose yard is being desecrated. Ideally, I figured with a touch of bass in my voice and a properly cocked eyebrow, I could have this dog person, apologizing and picking up their dog’s poop while singing numerous apologies in my direction. I’d even go in the house and bring out a bag for them to take their crap with them, because at this point, using my garbage can would not be acceptable.
A bit too much pleasure was derived from working out this scene in my head, and it came to an end when I turned the corner to my street and saw a woman walking some poodle mixed mut in the vicinity of my house. I parked in front of my house and got out in a slight huff. She was an older lady, and she was instructing this dog to do its business on the fire hydrant in my neighbor’s yard across the street. While I was upset about the poo in my yard, I wasn’t irrational enough to confront this lady on what most likely was a coincidence. Still, I was annoyed, and I wanted her to see that her dog’s public relieving of itself was unacceptable. I shut the door to the minivan with a bit of force, and screwed my face as if to look serious. But all I could think to do was I raise my right and arm and say “Good morning!”. I said it quick, and loud, and tried to sound annoyed though. She responded, like any normal person with a good morning herself, and all I could do was paste on a smile and wave again good bye.