On my way out.

Last year, one quiet evening in the late fall, I encountered an incredible asshole. I was walking the dog and at some point while I was in the vicinity of his lawn, he’d found a pile of poop in the grass. He threw a fit. Lectured me about manners. Cussed, ranted and raved. In a neighborhood full of dogs, he’d jumped to the conclusion that the poop belonged to Woody and I. It didn’t, but I offered to pick it up anyway on behalf of the other dog owners in the neighborhood. I defended my myself against his false accusations and eventually he apologized—but not without one last shitty comment, “tell ya what, you get one free shit in my yard. Anytime. God bless.”

He’d made a fool of himself and he knew it. His “god bless” only made the situation worse.

Last night, Woody and I were out walking when we encountered the incredible asshole again. He waved and I waved back. As we rounded the bend of his corner lot, Woody dropped a bomb in the grass. I went through the plastic bag routine, tied off the top and threw the warm mess right in the middle of his driveway. Free shit voucher redeemed. It felt good.

Happy Friday. Enjoy your weekends. Watch your step out there in the world. You never know when you’re gonna encounter assholes or their byproduct.

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