Red Mosquito

I have a lovely 2yo Golden Retriever. She is full of energy, so she gets a lot of walks. I try to be a responsible dog owner. I always pick up her poo, even if it is nowhere near other people's homes. My wife and I brought the dog along to visit friends in an east coast Florida barrier island/beach community. Nice, quaint, nothing fancy.

We walked the dog, and naturally, the dog pooped. My wife had a bag, and picked up the poop. We walked on. About 4-5 houses down, there was a large, standard community issued, garbage can at the edge of the road. The lid was half up, as it was quite full and ready for pickup.

My wife deposited the tied closed bag-O-poo into the can.

A man mowing his lawn at the house next door (it was not his trash can) went off. He ran over and yelled at my wife: "You're disgusting. You can't do that. Why would you put your dog's waste (his term) in someone else's can." She said: "it is a garbage can. People put nasty things in garbage cans. That's what they're for." He harassed her until she took it out.

Is my wife (am I) the asshole here for putting a tied bag of poop in a stranger's street side garbage can?

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

BurtReynolds wrote:Its fine to throw garbage in someone else's can. You can shoot even them if try to interfere.

Jorge wrote:"I'll go ahead and side with the neighbor" *describes completely different scenario*

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:Sounds like the Reddit story wasn’t a shared garbage can though.

Do you think it’s disgusting for you to put dog poop in your own trash can?

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:I don’t think the rate aspect is that big of a deal since this is a very small bag. I can see it from the general standpoint of using someone else’s can. It was definitely asshole for the neighbor to react like that when it wasn’t his can though.