Dear Witch-that-lives-down-the-street,

You really pissed me off a few minutes ago. There I was, innocently walking my rambunctious little dog-child down the street and on the home stretch when she, having to poo, veered into the front corner of your yard next to your driveway by a mere three inches.

As she got into poo-position and started to do her business–for the second time on this particular walk–you appeared at your screened window and shouted at me, “Hey, could you not do that?”

First of all, *I* wasn’t doing anything. But whatev.

I replied to you, “I’m sorry, she had to go, and I already used the bag I had with me. I live across the street and about six doors down; I’ll literally be back in two minutes to clean this up.”

Instead of appreciating what I was saying and backing down off of your high horse, you continued:
“I just don’t want that on my lawn. It leaves a smell and attracts other animals.”

You picked the wrong day to mess with me. I just came back from one of the most fun weekends EVER, am doing all I can to rehydrate my body, have a list of a million things to do, and on top of all of that, I was sweating like a pig.

I held up my end of the black retractable leash, showing you the attached carabiner which normally holds bags for just this reason, and said, “I realize that you don’t want it on your lawn. I don’t know what you want me to do: she already started going. I am not kidding, I WILL be back to clean this up.” Would you have had me pick up my dog, mid-poop? That’s disgusting. (By this time, my dog was finished and wagging her tail, ready to move on.)

Just as an aside here, I’m not sure if you know anything about how the body works, but physical activity–in dogs AND humans–does indeed get the system moving, if you know what I mean.

I walked the dog home quickly, grabbed a bag, and headed back your way, where I noticed that you were walking towards the poo spot in question, talking on the cell phone to God-knows-who, and leaning down to inspect it closely.

As I approached, you said to me, “I hope you’re not offended.” WTF? OF COURSE I was offended. You don’t know me. And your approach was horrible.

I responded, “You know, not everybody who walks their dog is a jerk. I would have come back even if you hadn’t yelled at me out of your window.”

And then you went on and on about the smell and the other animals, yada yada yada. I get it. I Get It. I GET IT!

And then you ventured into the ridiculous. You told me that you have five dogs and they have never, EVER pooped in a yard when you walk them, EVER. That they always poop in your backyard. Always. (and then adding, “except for one time.” Riiiight.) And that they stay on the sidewalk at all times, never setting foot in anyone’s yard.

You are a lying McLiar. I refuse to believe it. But whatever makes you feel better.

I cleaned up every bit of poo and said (because I am truly a nice person, and you would have seen that side of me initially if you had approached me differently), “Well, in the future when I walk her in front of your house I will make sure that she doesn’t set one little paw in your yard.”

And then you thanked me, telling me that you appreciate that.

You suck poo.