I am not a mean person. On the street, I smile at practically everyone I pass, at parties I worry way too much about other people’s comfort, and I constantly remind my friends when they start road rage ranting that you never know where someone is coming from or going to when they do something stupid. That old man who pulled in front of you might have just left his dying wife in the hospital; give him a break. All told, I’m probably too nice, and I’ve thought about changing that, but for the most part, I like it that way and I actually expect people to be nice to me.

Which is why I was totally unprepared for the tongue-lashing I took today when I stopped to clean up after LolliPop on our evening walk. Daisy had already gone potty (good girl!), and being the ever-vigilant pooper-scooper, I picked up behind her and sealed the bag. Since that was the only bag I had, I diligently stood on the curb and patiently pulled the knot out of it for double-duty.

That consideration, apparently, gave Ms. MeanHouseOnTheCornerWoman just enough time to stew over the fact that I was standing outside her home, plan her offensive and attack through the bushes. I am not a pushover and I am nobody’s victim, and I don’t shy away from confrontation; in fact I prefer it to pent up anger, hostility and passive aggressive frustration, but I expect to be talked to with some amount of respect and intelligence. I really don’t mind if you politely tell me you would rather I not let my dogs crap in your yard, (if, in fact my dogs are crapping in your yard). But when I’m standing on the side of the road wrestling a plastic bag so that I can clean up from the curb what little poop a dog with no jawbone and limited chewing power can produce, the last thing I want is to be subjected to your negative attitude and condescending tone.

I’m not 12, and I’m not an idiot. So please don’t talk to me like I just pulled my own pants down and took a dump on your lawn or slept with your husband. And when I explain to you calmly that I am removing any remnants of doggy digestion and taking them home with me, that should be the end of it.

Maybe I just live in a dream world of my own creation. That would be the one in which people take a deep breath, reflect on what’s important, and let the crap go. It’s the one where the overly reactive territorial urge to protect what’s yours and embarrass yourself doesn’t exist. It’s the one where you can sit on your porch in the evening, watch the day end and the sun setting with your wine, or your beer, or your Coke in your hand and wave at your neighbor instead of screaming at her. It’s the same one that Rodney King lives in, I guess. You know, where everybody gets along.

Forrest Gump’s mama always said, “Stupid is as stupid does.” I think it also says in the Bible somewhere, stupid begets stupid. And mean begets mean. So when you react in anger because you’re afraid your yard is going to the dogs and you call me a bitch, that just might lead to me reacting like one and tossing my fresh bag of doo across your yard like a well placed bocce ball.

And if I was a mean person, I’d leave it at that. But I’m not, and I like it that way, and I refuse to let your actions affect my reactions and my evening. I’ve spent the last two hours burning the keyboard instead of calories and crunching words instead of abs, and now, its time to let you go. I don’t meditate and do yoga for nothing, baby, and I believe in karma. (Thirty years ago I watched my sister run across the church yard, screaming to her friend that she’d toilet-papered the cemetery, and on the last word, which I believe was the “it”  in “I did it!” she tripped over the bricks of the sermon marquee and dislocated her knee.) Yep, I believe in karma.

Which means quite simply that I’ll find myself walking the two blocks back over to your house tonight in the dark to sneak across your lawn and retrieve my bag o’ poo and toss it into my own trash can, thank you very much. Because in the end, I know the reality that matters is my reality. I didn’t need your butt-wiping, and in the future, I only want to deal with my own crap.