Neighborhood Showdown

Me, Charlie, a Neighbor, His Lawn, and Poop Bags Collide.

Charlie and I were taking our customary morning stroll. As dogs are wont to do when in their natural element, he paused in front of a house to poop. It should be noted that Charlie’s poops are around the size and shape of a triple-A battery, maybe a double-A on a good day. I was standing in the road, and he had strayed around three feet into the yard to do his almost indiscernible business. But no sooner had he squeezed it out when the front door opened and a man, wild-eyed, silver-haired, sprang out, as if he’d been waiting a lonely lifetime for exactly this opportunity. I was in the midst of bagging up Charlie’s petite turd when the man commenced shouting.

I missed the first part of his sentence because I was on the phone with a friend, but I heard the second half: “…this is why I don’t have a dog!”

I inferred that he was unhappy about the situation, so I apologized. “I’m picking it up,” I told him. “No worries. Sorry about that.”

“Why don’t you get yourself one of those scoopers?” he hollered.

“I’ve got bags,” I called back, waving the one I was holding. “I’m fine using them.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be,” he snarled. “They’re disgusting.”

I wondered about the point he was trying to make. Was he pissed that I’d let Charlie poop on his lawn, or take issue with my retrieval method, or both? It was unclear, but I didn’t feel up to prolonging our interaction, so I tied up the poop bag and started walking.

On the way home I wondered if the guy was having second thoughts. Maybe he was embarrassed about making a mountain out of a triple-A molehill, but then, I doubted it. Ultimately, he got what he wanted- a poop-free yard which Charlie and I will evermore give wide berth- and what he deserved- my lingering resentment, plus this disgruntled post.