People are supposed to clean up after their dogs in New York, but many have their own ideas about what that means. It’s not uncommon to see newspaper lying on top of a pile of dog droppings, or a great big smear across the sidewalk, as if someone finally got tired of picking up crap and just kicked it into the gutter instead.
Today took the cake, though. Today, I was actually chased a full block down 17th street (between 7th and 8th, if you’re wondering) by a brown paper bag covered in dog doo. Apparently, someone had used it to pick up Muffy’s little droppings and then dropped the bag itself back onto the street. Awesome. Anyway, it blew up against my leg, and then pursued me, I swear to God, when I realized what it was and tried to escape.
My fellow travelers on 17th street had fun, at least. I’m sure the sight of me running at full tilt down the block, screaming, “Git away! POOP BAG! Ahh! Ahh! Git!” would be worth money. If only I’d had the foresight to charge.