Photo essay: The anti-social nature of dog poop in the grassy verge.

We don't own dogs. We own cats, and they poop in boxes. It is my view, one reinforced recently by yard signs in the neighborhood, that letting your dog defoul the urban landscape in the height of numbskullery. For instance, there's the pockmarked Cesar's Folly.

Let me tell you, the dog pictured above apparently consumed White Castles by the sack the evening prior to being photographed. The young lady girl stared at her phone throughout, then finally corralled the surely 5-lbs-lighter canine and started walking up the street, eastbound -- roughly 20 yards, before swinging left and entering a house within urinating distance of her pooch's reeking pile.

Downwind.

I like dogs just fine.

It's people I detest.