Monday, October 09, 2006

Mrs. Kravitz is My Homegirl

Why is it so damn hard for people to pick up after their dogs? It's getting to the point where I almost wish each dog's excrement had its own unique identifyer so I could match the poop to the pup and then chew out the owner.

I do have one prime suspect, however. There's a woman on my block who marches up and down the street every morning with a cup of coffee, a cigarette, and her low rider Corgie follows behind her leaving his bidness wherever and whenever he feels the urge, which often ends up being my front lawn. Does she carry poop bags? Nope. That would mean giving up either the smoke or the caffeine. She knows I know, but she doesn't give a crap, so to speak.

And I don't buy that theory that animal defecation is better than Miracle Grow. Hell, if that were the case, I'd invite a few pandas over just to try to have a shot at the local garden club award. Pandas can poop as often as 40 times a day - go ahead, look it up.

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