Scarlett O'Hara On Prozac

The Dog Poop Police

One of the things that has puzzled and mystified me since I moved here is the Yankee penchant for getting in other people's business. It doesn't matter what it is, if someone thinks you're doing something wrong they rush to tell you so even if they don't know you from Adam's house cat.

Take today, for instance. My husband, stepson, and I went to take our new puppy for a walk. Now, first I must mention that we inherited this dog from my stepson's girlfriend and she already named him Vince Lombardi, or Vinnie for short. Vinnie is a decidedly Yankee dog name. Down South we name our dogs things like Duke, Ole Blue, or the obvious Bear (if I gotta explain that one you don't know squat about the South.) We do name our dogs after football coaches and players, but we do not name them after Yankee football coaches. 'Nuff said.

So my husband and I are enjoying walking with our son and Vinnie, who is adorable and reasonably well behaved. We went to a local park, where I suggested we let Vinnie off his leash to run amock the way dogs do in wide open spaces, but that idea was vetoed because my hubby was afraid he'd find a hole in a fence and run amock outside our jurisdiction. (Yankees are big on fences. If you don't believe me read Robert Frost, famous Yankee poet.) We let Vinnie pull us around the park, sniffing at leaves and possible squirrels and every spot where a previous dog might have left his calling card, all of us having a grand old time and then headed home.

On the way home, an older gentleman came out of his house and called out to us. I was expecting a neighborly type of greeting, something along the lines of 'Fine looking dog you got there. What's his name?" Instead, the old geezer had the nerve to begin his conversation with, 'Where's your pooper scooper?'

At first, I thought he was kidding. Pooper scooper? This isn't Chicago. The dog isn't going to poop on the sidewalk for pete's sake. But now, the lederly Mr. Yankee was quite serious. My husband told him we just acquired the dog yesterday and didn't have the requisite scooper yet. The other guy then informed us that a lot of kids go play in that park, you know.

By this time I've begun to realize that the man is not trying to make friendly conversation. He's trying to take umbrage with us for not following the laws of dog poopiness. My husband, in true Yankee fashion, just smarted off back to the old man with a commjent about how we'd call him next time to let him know the dog was going to poop in the park. I looked at both my husband and the other man as if they'd both lost their minds. What did they think they were doing? They never met each other before. ONe did not have the right to correct the other, and the other did not have the right to be a smart ass to the one. That is not how things are done.

Apparently, that is how things are done in Yankee World. A perfect stranger can stop you on the street and tell you you're breaking some sort of rule or minor infraction and you're supposed to either acknowledge they are correct or tell them in no uncertain terms they can practice acts of biological impossibility. (My husband is very, very good at the latter.)

This would never, ever happen where I'm from. For one, its the height and epitome of rudeness. For another, there's a dog involved and its far more interesting to talk about dogs than it is to talk about who is breaking what rule. Had I been in Alabama, Tennessee, certain parts of Georgia and possibly Mississippi the conversation would have gone far differently.

The old gentleman would have remarked on what a fine looking dog we had, and was it a golden retreiver? When we responded affirmatively that yes, it was a golden retreiver and his name is Vinnie, the gentleman would then do one of two things. He would either reminsice about dogs he owned as a child or ask us why in the world we didn't name the dog Bear, Duke, or Ole Blue. Either way, the converstaion would have been about the dog, not about poop.

After a bit of discussion about dogs, breeds of dogs, names of dogs, and how great it is to have a dog he would have asked us if we were headed to the park. We would have answered, why yes, we are headed to the park. Depending on where you're from, that would have been followed possibly by an inviation for the gentleman to accompany you to the park so you can continue the conversation about dogs, or he would follow with an invitation to stop back by when you leave the park so you could talk some more. If both invitiations are declined, it is then perfectly acceptable to remark, "Hey, I don't know if you know this or not but since that park is used by neighborhood kids everyone really appreciates if dog walkers use a scooper if their dog does his business. You know how moms are when kids track nasty little surprises into the home."

At this point, we would thank the old man for his advice, assure him we'd remember the next time we walked to the park, and bid him a good day. He'd pat the dog on the head, smile, and go back inside. Both would leave feeling good about the conversation and happy about talking with a neighbor. At no point would the word 'poop' be mentioned and a cordial relationship would be established before any correction is made.

See, there are different codes of behavior in the South than in Yankeeland. What the old gentleman did this morning was rude, plain and simple. What my husband did was return rudeness for rudeness. Both people walked away feeling a bit prickly and not at all inclined to discuss dogs or anything else. My question is: Why?

What is this drive Yankees have for correcting perfect strangers? Is there some sort of 'rule police' waiting to get you if you fail to scoop up dog poop in the park? And for that matter, who cares if a kids gets dog poop on their shoe? Let them leave their shoes on the back porch until they dry and then bang the poop off of them the way we had to when we were kids.

It's behavior like this that causes no end of consternation for transplanted Southerners forced to endure Yankee manners (or lack thereof.) And it makes me understand why my husband responds as he does to rude people. After all, its hard to be congenial when someone starts a conversation with everything you're doing wrong.

So if you are a Yankee and you're reading this, I would like to cordially invite you to mind your own business. If you see someone doing something they shouldn't, do what Southerners do. Give them a disapproving look, shake your head, and pull your children to the other side of the street incase their behavior is catching.

Or better yet, smile and ask them if they own a dog.

posted by Zoe Richardson @ 10:50 AM