This is the entrance to the woods behind my house. If you have a dog and want to walk it in our woods, there will be water if your dog needs it and a place to put the poop. Usually there are garbage bags stuck into the fence too. Grocery-style bags to put poop into and big trash bags to line the trash can. I suspect that my neighbors are responsible for this. I love my neighbors and I think this stuff is great and I’m glad people are buying in to it.

I’ve lived here for a long time and I have been walking the small trail through the woods for all that time. I’m not sure people have to be micro-managing dog poop in the woods. In all the time I’ve walked through the woods, I have never noticed any kind of poop on the trail. Dog, wildlife, or human. I will bet dollars that any dog that has to poop while being walked in the woods goes off trail to do it. Raccoons and opossums and groundhogs and skunks and things probably stay as far away from the trail as possible.

I like dogs but I have NEVER owned a dog in my adult life. I am a one-dog woman and that dog left the building when I was 19*. But I have walked my late brother’s dogs Ernie and Alfred (Alfred is dead) in the woods and I have walked the UU’s dog Bandit (also dead) over there. I didn’t take baggies with me any of those times. I let the dogs run, as people do nowadays. Well, Bandit didn’t really run very fast by that time but you get the idea.

I get that dog poop needs to get picked up on sidewalks and people’s lawns. Yuck! But I don’t see a need for that in a woods, no matter how small. But my young neighbors are obviously working together to make this place even better than it already is and I cannot complain.

* I was leaving the cabin for my sophomore year of college. I was driving my grandparents’ old Ford Fairlane (they were dead) but I only had that vee-hickle for a week (until Labor Day). I was about to drive out of the parking lot between the moomincabin and the Old Cabin when my parents brought my dog Tigger out to meet me. They said, “Say good-bye to your dog.” When I got back up there for Labor Day, Tigger was gone. She was 13 years old and failing. It sounds awful but I was really okay about it. But I have never owned another dog and neither did my parents.

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