Thursday, September 15, 2005

Passive Aggression

I don't mind having my picture taken, but usually I ask that the photographer introduces himself before snapping away.

So I was kind of curious why this short balding man with a prune face and thinning hair stood in front of his house taking pictures of Trudy and I walking down the street. Normally, I ask that you give me a chance to hide the bag of dog crap before stealing my soul, so I took a more peaceful route.

"New camera?" I asked.

"Something like that," he replied, and walked back in the house.

Now I knew what he was doing. Several times when walking the dog, he just happened to appear on his front porch when we make it by his house. I'm always friendly; he always growls. It's fun.

Yep -- George Freakin' Smiley was scoping me, afraid that Trudy was using his lawn as a toilet. And she does from time to time, but that's why I carry bags around - so I can clean it up. However, my neighborhood is full of the zealous guardians who delight in nothing more than catching a wayward cur crapping in their front yards. I guess the benefit of the doubt is something that we're no longer entitled to these days.

So last Saturday, I return home and take the dog out around 11:30. I'm tired and ready for some sleep. And I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw him standing less than two feet behind me, glaring at Trudy like she's Satan herself.

"How you doing?" I asked.

"Uhhnnn," he said.

"Can I help you?"

"Nope."

I'd like to point out here that Trudy was sniffing and doing nothing more.

"You know, if you're worried about her going in your yard, that's why I always carry these," and I pulled a bag out of my pocket.

"People don't clean up after their dogs," he said.

"I know, but I do."

"Whatever." And he retreated to his house.

His foul mood bothered me for awhile. I'm tired of the glares, the stares and the general suspicion I seem to arouse -- especially considering the stray dogs, stray teenagers and rampant nightclubbers on weekends.

So I left the poop bag on his front porch. That'll show him. Next time, I'll bring a match to light it.

1 comment:

Linda B said...

Take that, you big crabby guy!
He's lucky you didn't punch him.
If he has THAT much time on his hands, he has time to clean up the dog doodoo! LOL