An Unorthodox Resolution.

Over the course of my life there have been many times when I resolved issues in a swift unorthodox way. When I say issues, I mean both minor and major annoyances that I needed to be resolved. When I say unorthodox, I mean I resolved those issues in my own unique way.

I recall one such issue back in the late 90's while I was married and living in Mississauga.

After moving out from our Courtney Club condo, Bonnie, Stephanie and I moved into a semi-detached house back in November 1994. We had outgrown our small one bedroom plus den condo and we were now living in a brand new three bedroom, three bathroom house. We also now had a full basement and a single car garage to store all our stuff. It was all just stuff that we kept accumulating ever since Stephanie was born four years earlier.

Since moving into our new house I now had many new chores. Chores that for whatever reason were delegated to me and were now my responsibility. I was shoveling our walkway, driveway and our share of the city owned sidewalk in the winter. In the summer I was cutting the grass and doing all the yard work. Although we didn’t have a big lawn, our lawn always seemed bigger than it actually was. On some hot days it felt like I was cutting the grass at Yankee Stadium.

I fuck’n hated cutting the grass and I hated shoveling the snow even more. There was no doubt that I was so much more better suited for condo living. Maybe, I would have felt differently if I had a wife who did some of the other chores inside our house. Seriously, I never remember Princess Bonnie doing any type of housework whatsoever during our eighteen year marriage.

Oops I almost forgot, every spring she did and on her own plant a few flowers along the side of our garage. She also hung a flower pot on our porch.

My first lawnmower was an electric one. It was not one of the newer rechargeable mowers now being sold at the Home Depot. Nope I still needed a fifty-foot extension cord to cut our grass. I know it sounds simple, but it never was for me. I ran over the cord so many times and I was always repairing or buying new extension cords. Although I must admit most of the times when I ran over the cord, I was taking careless shortcuts so I could get finished quicker.

On one Father’s Day I was given a new push mower to cut the grass since Bonnie knew how much I hated the electric mower. She assumed I would also enjoy the exercise from cutting the lawn with my new manual four blade push mower.

Happy Father’s Day!

Seriously?

Yes it is true I loved being active, but my idea of exercise was more like bike riding, rollerblading, playing tennis or golf. It was not cutting the grass on a hot summer day the old fashioned way with a push mower. To make the job even more exhausting Bonnie had also purchased the optional bagger. She wanted fewer grass clippings on our yard because Stephanie would always bring the clippings back into the house after playing outside. It wasn't like Bonnie cleaned up the clippings or did any of the house cleaning, that too was my job. The bagger just added more weight and more time to my newly delegated outdoor fitness routine.

Even though our lawn was really not that big, I would still need to empty the clippings three or four times into a garbage bag. Every week during the summer there was one big bag full of grass clippings at the curb to be picked up on garbage day.

When we first moved into our new house we got Stephanie a little dog. Benny was a bichon frise and Stephanie just adored him. He was the perfect family dog, although he could be a bit yappy at times. We always picked up after Benny on his daily walks and at home Benny always went out in the backyard to do his business. Each week before I cut the grass, I would need to pick up a week's worth of Benny’s dog shit in our backyard.

Also add picking up dog shit to my list of delegated chores.

One day there was a big pile of dog shit on our front lawn. The pile was from a much larger dog, but none of our immediate neighbors had a dog. I just figured someone had been out walking their dog and could not be bothered picking up after it. A couple days later when I arrived home from work there was another pile of dog shit in the exact same spot.

Now I was pissed off.

For the second time in less than a week, I had to pick up another dog's shit off my front lawn. Within a few days dog shit once again appeared in the exact same spot. It was obvious to even the most casual dog shit observer that all the shit was from the same dog. I was angry and with each pile I picked up, I got even angrier.

This was an issue that needed to be resolved swiftly, but first I had to find the dirty dog.

One day I caught a break.

Just as I turned the corner onto my street, I saw a beautiful large white husky running from the area where my house was. Sure enough when I parked my car there was another steamy, stinky, warm pile of dog shit there to greet me. I knew there was a white husky dog that lived on our street. Our street was rectangular; I lived on the west side about a 300-yard walk from where the husky lived over on the east side. I was now pretty sure the white husky was the culprit. However, I decided that I would not react until I physically caught the husky shitting on my lawn.

Then I would resolve this issue once and for all.

Sure enough and a couple shit piles later I caught the husky in the act. I immediately followed the dog and he took me right to his house where there was a for sale sign on the lawn. I rang the doorbell; an older woman with a cigarette dangling from her mouth opened the door. The beautiful white husky was now just lying in the sun on his front lawn.

“Is that your dog?” I asked.

“Yeah, he’s our dog, why?” she replied.

“Your dog has been shitting on my lawn for weeks and I am getting sick and tired of picking up after him.” I was firm as I addressed her.

“Yeah, what you want me to do ‘bout it?” She said in her broken English as she shrugged her shoulders.

I was surprised by her response; she didn’t seem to care in the least what her dog had been up to. I bet her dog never even shit on her lawn.

“Okay, the next time your dog shits on my lawn, I promise you’ll be getting it back,” I said as she slammed the door in my face.

As I left the house, I now wanted the husky more than ever to shit on my lawn one more time.

Why?

Because I now wanted to come back with a bag of her dog's shit. I wanted to give it right back to that rude bitch who had just slammed the door in my face. I didn’t have to wait long, about a week later I once again caught the husky having a dump on my lawn.

What to do now?

The way I saw it on that day I had just two options, actually I had three. I could also choose to do nothing, but that wouldn't resolve anything. Doing nothing was no longer an option so my two remaining options would be.

One, I could take the shit back over to the woman in a bag. I could knock on her door and present her with the bag of shit and have her dispose of it. And, just like I had promised, she would be getting her dog’s shit back.

Or two, I could do exactly what I decided to do and I would teach that bitch a lesson about being a proper dog owner. A lesson she would not be forgetting anytime soon. I picked up her dog's fresh warm shit in a bag and I marched back over to the house where the husky lived. I walked up to the front door where I proceeded to smear the bag of shit all over the door, window and doorknob. I even pressed some of her dog's shit into the lock and on the doorbell. When all the shit was out of the bag, I threw the empty bag on her porch and walked back home.

And, just like I had promised, she had gotten her dog’s shit back.

After that afternoon, I never saw the beautiful white husky dog again.

After that afternoon, I never cleaned another dogs shit off my front lawn again.

Around this time I was doing a lot of rollerblading. Many nights before it got too dark I would rollerblade 20 laps around my neighborhood. Our rectangular shaped street was exactly a half kilometer per lap and I could knock off a quick 10 km in just over twenty minutes. On one night I was blading around the street, I was always quick since the street was newly paved and there wasn't any traffic. On every lap I passed the house where the husky lived and there was now a sold sign over the for sale sign.

It was getting dark, the street lights were on and I still had a couple laps I needed to get in. I was flying down the street on the east side when I wiped out. I had a pretty nasty fall with lots of road rash on my palms, knees and elbows. Someone had thrown pebble gravel all over the road, I didn’t see it and I hit the gravel at full speed. The gravel was not there on my prior lap a minute earlier and there was absolutely nobody around on the street.

Although I didn’t see anyone on the street, I knew exactly who had thrown those stones on the road. There was a punk teenager who also lived where the husky lived. I’m positive it was that punk who lived in the house where I had smeared the door with dog shit a couple weeks earlier. He had been running his mouth days after me putting the shit on his door. I never saw the punk again. The following week a new family moved in and I resumed my evening rollerblading laps.

Looking back at how I resolved the issue of having to pick up another dog's shit, I guess I could have done things differently. Then again maybe the issue would not have been resolved to my satisfaction. Had that woman answered the door with an apology and not slammed her door in my face I am pretty sure I would have handled things a lot differently.

Anyways, the issue got resolved to my satisfaction although in a very unorthodox way.

A few years later I remember seeing a sign someone had put on their front lawn, it simply read:

“NO DOG POOPING. VIOLATORS WILL HAVE THEIR NOSES RUBBED IN IT”

Man, there is always someone looking to one up ya.