Benny Jay: Dog Crap

They have a fascinating obituary in The New York Times about a philosopher named Stephen Toulmin, who was world famous for developing ways to “relate philosophical issues to practical experiences.”

“He argued that if we want to understand questions of ethics, science and logic, we have to inquire into the everyday situations in which they arise,” according to the obit by William Grimes.

As I’m reading about his life, the dog starts to whine. What else — she needs a walk.

So we’re out the door and down the street and I got my head in the clouds not really minding where I’m going. We wind up a couple of blocks over. The dog starts to pee.

“Hey!”

I look up to see a weasley looking guy in a bathrobe standing on his front porch.

“Yeah?” I say.

“Your dog….”

I look at the dog. She’s in the middle of her business.

“What about her?” I ask.

“She’s peeing on my lawn….”

I don’t know what to say. Yes, she is in fact, peeing on his lawn. But, ugh — so what….

“She’s almost done,” I say.

“I don’t care if she’s almost done,” he says. “Move her….”

The guy’s starting to irritate me.

“Move her where?”

“I don’t care where — just not on my lawn. I pay taxes….”

Now he’s really irritating me. “Taxes? I pay taxes too….”

“Move her….”

“What about squirrels — can they pee on your lawn cause you pay taxes?”

“Don’t be an asshole….”

“I’m an asshole? You live in a city and you don’t want dogs to pee on your lawn and I’m the asshole?”

“I’ll call the police….”

The dog’s done so I head off. Pisses me off.  Keep thinking about the guy as I walk along. Always meeting jerks on the walk — this neighborhood’s crawling with them. Usually, I know where they live and I stay away. I make a note not to pass this guy’s house. Don’t pee on the lawn cause he pays taxes? Should have said “blow me.” That’s what Big Mike would have said.  Damn, I never think of the good things to say until it’s too late to say them….

My day goes on. Do this do that. Hours pass. It’s nearly midnight. I’m taking the dog on her last walk of the day. My mind’s on a million different things. The leash tightens. I look over. The dog’s going into her squat. You know, she’s gotta take a crap.

Only — get this.  She’s crapping on the lawn of Mr.-I-Pay-My-Taxes. That’s right. I swear to God I had nothing to do with it.  I know, Freud would say I was subconsciously steering the dog to this lawn. But, I swear, I don’t control this dog’s bowels….

The dog’s taking her freaking time. She’s walking in a circle. Like she does. By the way, what’s that all about?

I’m thinking: What if the guy see us? What if he comes out of his house? Will he call the cops? Maybe I should tug the dog to another lawn? But, then, why should some other guy pay for his neighbor’s jerkishness? Plus, you gotta take the dog’s feelings into consideration. How would you feel if someone dragged you by a leash just when you were all set to take a crap?

So I let her do her thing on the guy’s lawn. I get out my plastic bag. All ready to scoop it up. She’s done. I step closer….

And then I think: Fuck this guy. What a perfect revenge to have the dog leave a big pile in his freaking yard. With any luck he’ll step in it….

I back away….

Then I think: Oh, but it’s so passive aggressive. And it’s against the ethos of good dog walkers who always pick up. Does his bad behavior justify my lawlessness?

I’m looking at that steaming pile of crap and I think: What would Stephen Toulmin do? That’s the problem with philosophers — they’re never around when you need them….

I pick up the crap. Two wrongs don’t make a right. Hey, you don’t need to be a world-famous philosopher to figure that one out.

I walk to the alley, throw the bag in a garbage bin and head for home.

But the dog still has one last thing to do. She has to pee. And, get this — she’s peeing on his lawn! Out of all the others on the block.  Is this dog smart or what?

“Good dog,” I tell her. “Good dog….”

She looks up at me. I swear to God, she’s smiling….