As I ignore her, and almost on cue, my dog squats down to relieve her bladder.
“Oh, thank God, she’s only peeing, and not taking a sh*t,” I thought to myself.
“Now, see! That’s not nice! Pick that up!” the woman in the window yells.
“Do you have a rag I could borrow?” I ask her, “because she took a piss and it’s kinda hard for me to pick that up.”
“Oh. Well, just next time, walk her down the other block, would ya?”
“Whateverrrr,” I retorted.
The next morning, I walk my dog down the block, as I normally do. Out of spite, I loiter around the curb in front of the window woman’s house. Ever loyal to my wishes, my dog does her thing right there, for which I praise her loudly (and so that window woman could hear me), “Good girl!”
Like a responsible dog owner, and consistent with what I always do, I cleaned up after my dog.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the curtains ruffle in the woman’s window. She didn’t open her window, although I was secretly hoping she would.
I wanted to let her know that no one, not even she, can tell me where I can and cannot walk my dog. It’s my neighborhood and my block, too. I’m a responsible dog owner, and I take pride in my block. I refuse to walk down another block just because she doesn’t like dogs hanging around outside her house.