Tonight on the way back from the old mill poseur complex, I watched a large dog drop a massive dump in a parking lot. The "master" commented on the size (to the dog, not me) and then walked off.
In this town, typically the dog's handler will take care of the dookies. Looks like this owner did not get that bulletin.
I rode by him while he was standing ten feet from a plastic bag dispenser, specifically for dog shite; I mentioned to him that bags were right there. His look initially said, "Hunh?" I followed up with, "So you can clean that up."
His look changed to "go eff yourself."
I suppose perhaps he did not get enough hugs as a youngster, so everyone down-wind must now recognize that that fella does what he wants.
Bend continues to grow.
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