Ownership & Entitlement

In the 90’s, I lived in a golf course community, populated largely by folks with a strong sense of personal entitlement, especially regarding the upkeep of the neighborhood, and even more especially regarding other people’s upkeep of their own property. Ninety percent of HOA meetings centered around the yard-keeping sins of others.

The only sin greater than failing to maintain a pristine lawn, was the sin of letting your dog poop on another person’s parkway, between the sidewalk and curb. Now, the thing about entitlement is that it’s a two-way street. Those very folks who were rabid about their own yards, harbored no compulsion to clean up after their dogs left calling cards on others’ grass.

Pranksterism
As an individual committed to the concept that nothing in life is more sacred than a well-played prank, I found myself in a target-rich environment, because people with an enlarged sense of self-worth produce the most satisfying responses to a good prank. I should also confess that I belonged to a secret society (mostly like-minded neighbors on my cul-de-sac) committed to the art of the prank.

On a Saturday afternoon, while looking out my office window, I noticed a neighbor using her tennis shoe-clad foot to scoot a large fecal calling card her large dog had just left on the sidewalk, onto the parkway. She then wiped the edge of her tennis shoe in that neighbor’s lawn to remove all evidence of the crime — as well as the stench I suppose.

I immediately set to work on my computer, composing an 11”x8.5” sign that incorporated a visual representation of said dog’s calling card, followed by (in large block letters) “This poop courtesy of (offending dog owner’s name)”. That was also followed by her phone number. Then, I printed multiple copies of the sign on both sides of card stock and stapled them to small, wooden sticks. By the stealth of a moonless Saturday night, and aided by the tiniest of flashlights, I edged my way down the entire block, planting signs next to every canine calling card I could spot.

On Sunday morning, I raced to my second-story home office to watch as the culprit-family left for church. To my delight, they got about two-thirds of the way down the block before the brake lights came on and the offending woman left the car to gain closer inspection of one of my signs. That event was followed by both husband and wife, in their Sunday best, scurrying up and down the block to pluck up my signs.

I seriously considered replacing the signs while the family was at church but even I am not that callous. And besides, I would likely have been spotted in the bright morning daylight, thereby, preempting my plausible deniability when later accused.

The Real Issue
Once again, doggy poop etiquette was not my primary subject. What I really wanted to write about was “Ownership”. Most of us profess to “owning” pets. But who really owns who? If it’s a dog, we fix every meal for it, pay for its medical care, pick up its poop — or suffer the consequences —, and often let it sleep in our bed. We even let it lick us with a tongue that’s recently licked who knows what.

What about other stuff? Back in 2000, I foolishly purchased an expensive motorcycle at the height of Harley-Davidson’s price inflation. I washed that thing twice as often as I washed my car. I spent thousands of dollars adding accessories, and I fretted about it any time I left it in a parking lot while dining in an adjacent restaurant. I even realized I was modifying my wardrobe to complement the bike. Did I really own that machine, or did it own me?

So, my question is, “What’s in your wallet…or garage…or closet…or lake lot?” Do you really think you own it? Is it staying awake at night fretting about you? Let’s meet for coffee and trade tails of ownership woe.

A meeting of great minds who think alike