Suburban Shandalabra!

"Quelle horror!" "The nerve!" "Who does she think she is, anyway?"

Sometimes I dangle it around my wrist. Sometimes I hold it casually between my fingers. But no matter how hard I try to turn it into a chic accessory, a bag full of doggy do just doesn't work with the rest of my ensemble. And yet, every day I face the same dilemma when I walk Sir Blakey. What to do with the poo?

Carry it around, block after block? That's a big ick right there, people. I tend to stop and schmooze with my neighbors. When they see me walk by, naturally, they get so excited, they run out to greet the SJG. "She's here! She's here!" echoes down the street. Yes, that's just how popular I am in these parts. I walk around, lighting up the empty lives of my friends in the immediate vicinity. It's a mitzvah just to be near me. But can I honestly retain my status, while clutching a stinky poopy bag? Let me put it another way: Would you invite someone in for refreshments under these circumstances?

Too many times, I've stood outside, Sir Blakey's leash in one hand, and a tiny biodegradable porta-potty in the other, while neighbors sip mid-day martinis and trade quips indoors. So now, just to jazz things up a bit, I've taken to breaking a city ordinance or two. Oh, I can't tell you how reckless I feel, how alive, each time I dump my little poo poo depository in someone else's trash can. It's such an adrenaline rush.

Only once have I been scolded and openly shamed. Only once have I been caught in the act. It went something like this: "What do you think you're doing?" "Um...." "Who told you it's okay to throw that bag in my trash can?" "No one?" "Take that out right now!" "Okay, sorry." "How'd you like it if I threw a bag o' crap in your trash can?" "Not good?" "Don't ever do it again!" "I won't." 

I felt so horrible, I swore I'd never throw my doggy doody bag in anyone else's trash can again. My vow lasted exactly one day, then I was back to my old tricks. I get a cheap thrill each time I skirt the law. I look around like I'm breaking and entering. I lift the lid and in it goes. If it's so wrong, why does it feel so right?