**it Happens. Sure. But it shouldn't happen here...
I don't know who needs to hear this, but I am not a pet owner. To paraphrase young Alison Reed, "I don't have a dog. I don't have a cat. I don't have a pet." She followed that up with no brother or sister either, none of which - including a pet unless you count a short-lived fish from the fair - we ever blessed her with. We're clear? We do not have a pet. Why, then, am I repeatedly finding what I suspect is dog poop in my yard? On my driveway. In both front and back yards. In two different window wells. Now, I'm no expert on excrement. I rejoiced when we finally said goodbye to diapers and I will forever hold dear Miss Debbie and the rest of the Day Nursery team who helped Alison learn to deal with her own bodily creations. I didn't enjoy the diaper yeas. I don't even like dealing with poop when I'm the one producing it. And I certainly don't spread it around the neighborhood. This is not the rando pooper; just an illustration. I lik...