That means I remember when dog poop was everywhere. And dogs ran loose.
Now I very seldom see a dog just trotting down the street. And most people walking their dogs carring a plastic bag filled with dog poop.
But lately I'm seeing the little baggies left everyplace. Two pink ones tucked into someone's flower garden. A clear one that's been run over several times at the top of a big hill. A blue baggie resting on top of a wall.
Why? Why go to that trouble and just leave it behind?
My friend Karen Karbo, who wrote The Stuff of Life: A Daughter's Memoir, which is a memoir about her dad's death, talks about how she used to go for runs with her dog, and at a point along the route she would always stash her blue NY Times bag for retrieval on her way back. Then one day it went missing. She searched and searched for it, confused as to why someone would take a bag of poop.
Maybe they just thought it was abandoned.