I am a forgetful person, so I understand that once in a while you might not realize you’re out of baggies, or you think you’re just taking Bark Wahlberg out for a quick pee and then, whoops, all of a sudden there’s a funky bunch on someone’s lawn. It happens. But you know what doesn’t just “happen”? Letting your dog festoon a corner of the neighborhood with avant-garde turd art for months on end because you think the rules don’t apply to you. THE RULES APPLY TO YOU. Considerate Humaning 101—read the g.d. syllabus.

Every day you walk Jimmy Kibble to this corner, let him poop, and think, now I could pick this up like a decent human living in community with others but nah, I’m gonna leave this steaming pile of excrement right here for everyone else to enjoy. Every day you make this decision. Sometimes it’s even on the sidewalk, which means you have to engage in the same game of poopscotch as the rest of us and STILL can’t be bothered to fix the problem, you lazy pustule. THE PROBLEM IS YOU THE PROBLEM IS YOU THE PROBLEM IS YOU.

(Confession 1: I nurse fantasies of playing law and ordure: staking out the corner, following the poopetrator home and later sneaking back to pile everything in front of his or her door.

Confession 2: This winter I was so incensed (apoopleptic?) about the daily accumulation that at one point I actually attempted to track dog and owner by their prints in the snow. Unfortunately several other dogs live in the area and I would have needed a bloodhound to figured out which tracks were whose OH THE IRONY.)


It’s just, look. You knowingly signed on for the maintenance of a perpetual pooping machine, and you are not doing your job. Nobody wants to see your feces collection. There is no sign on the corner saying “abandon poop, all ye who enter here.” The dump-and-run is not some sort of #lifehack; it is evidence that you believe that you are more important than everyone around you, not just once in a while but every goddamn day.

You probably text during movies, too. You monster.