Outside the kitchen window of the home I once lived in as a child was a small empty lot. We used it as a shortcut from one street to the other.
My mother often sent me to my uncle’s tiny apartment with covered dishes of food she shared with him. Standing by that kitchen window, she’d watch me as I walked through the empty lot carrying the plate. She’d still be there watching as I returned skipping through the tall grass and weeds that populated the space.
Now that sounds like a sweet sepia-toned image from childhood, doesn’t it? In many ways it is. But if memories also capture scent, this memory would be foul smelling. That empty lot of my youth was also where the roving band of dogs would come to take care of business, all kinds of business.
Back in the day, rules for orderly civilized living were far more relaxed when it came to owning dogs. Dogs, both those who actually had homes and those struggling to survive in a dog-eat-dog world begging for scraps at friendly backdoors, traveled freely around town. No leashes, no rules, no limitations on where they were allowed to relieve themselves.
Many were the times I or another member of my family would unwittingly track dog poop into my mother’s fresh clean home. The resulting drama of her horrified reaction can’t be overstated. You would have thought nuclear waste, not dog poop, was smeared on her floor.
That empty lot was a minefield not unlike a cow pasture where every step taken might result in an explosion of mustard yellow excrement being slathered on one’s shoes. My mother wasn’t standing by the window vigilantly watching for her little girl’s safe return. Oh no, she was watching to see if I stepped in crap!
Fast forward.
Today we have all kinds of rules and regulations to help us human beings live in relative peace and harmony. Some may say we have too many laws governing human interactions, living with too many yellow caution signs posted along life’s journey. From the moment we are born until we pass through that door of no return, our lives are regulated whether we like it or not.
And certainly if you live in an area of concentrated humanity, living nearly cheek to jowl next to neighbors, there must be some rules to ensure we don’t tread on someone else’s idea of living the good life.
That said, owning dogs carries with it responsibilities. As civilized as we may consider ourselves, we live among others whose idea of being a responsible pet owner doesn’t include waste management.
Whether you are walking along an otherwise beautiful village street or taking a stroll along a nature trail or bike path, evidence of dogs passing through is everywhere.
Water Street, Main Street, Ned’s Point Road, Ned’s Point, Barstow, Mechanics, Cannon, Pearl, Church, the bike path – any Mattapoisett street where someone might walk with a dog…
Mother must be spinning in her grave.
Please, for the sake of all that is dear to us, for the sake of every carpet and Oriental rug in every Mattapoisett home, and in memory of my mother, clean up after your dog!
By Marilou Newell