Andy Chase

I went into town to check the mail yesterday, and because the dog is a much more social animal than I'll ever be I took him along. He likes to walk around in the center in hopes that somebody will stop and make a big fuss over him.

Being a good citizen, I took it upon myself to clean up after my dog after he pooped prominently on the sidewalk. There aren't any "public" trashcans that I know of in the center of town, so we walked behind a building containing a couple of businesses and some apartments. There's a dumpster there, which seemed like a better place for canine excrement than out in front of the building. In the six years we've had the dog, I've deposited many a poo-bag into dumpsters behind businesses and even other apartment buildings, without incident.

Well, yesterday I guess my luck ran out. There was a man standing near the dumpster, talking to somebody in an idling car. As I deposited the bag into the dumpster, the man by the car broke off his conversation and said loudly, "That's for tenants, you know."

I looked up in surprise, and before I could formulate a reply he continued, "I pay to have that stuff removed!"

Taken aback as I always am by the petty assholery of other humans, I was still at a loss for words.

In his best I-know-full-well-you're-not-a-tenant-but-I'm-cleverly-making-a-point voice he asked me, "Are you a tenant?"

At times like this, when I am utterly enraged by such stupid confrontations or spectacularly bad customer service, my brain simply shuts down; my ability to form intelligent arguments (or even ad hominem arguments) leaves me completely. I often wish it didn't, but perhaps it's for the best; it's probably my brain's way of telling me it's not worth the mental energy.

So, I merely mumbled some stupid apology. Having put me in my place, the guy gave me a big fake grin and said, "Just so you know. And I like your dog, so I'll let it go this time."

"Let it go?" What, like he's going to call the cops if I do it again? Or send me a bill for the cost of hauling a bag of poop? I understand his point; to paraphrase the argument used to tell kids why they shouldn't throw rocks into ponds, if everybody threw dog poop into the lake, there wouldn't be a lake anymore, would there? But it's not like he caught me heaving a 30 gallon Hefty bag full of feces into his dumpster. It's not even like I drive up to the center of down and use that dumpster every time I walk the dog.

The witty rejoinder I should have used occurred to me, as it always does, about 30 seconds later:

Next time, I'll leave the dog crap on your sidewalk.

He struck me as the sort who would have gotten really belligerent if I had argued with him at all. What gets me is the fact that the guy would have been just as snotty if he had caught me leaving the dog poop on the sidewalk; no doubt he would have made some witty comment about my own toilet habits. So, once again my brain was probably right: Not worth the effort.