Dog Shit Man

As I prepare to move out of Santa Cruz, I wouldn't be doing my time here justice without a look back at my initiation into this little community; spearheaded by none other than Dog Shit Man.

About six and a half years ago, I came over the hill as we call it, from San Jose to do some house hunting here in The Cruz. I find this little condo I like, and I decide to buy it. I'm excited! A new little town by the beach, a cute little place that is all mine - fun! After a 30 day escrow, it's move in day -- yea!

I get here about lunchtime that day, but the place is already hoppin. One of my uncles has come from Gilroy to let in the guy that is doing the laminate flooring, and another who is repairing a small leak in one of the wall pipes. I had been babysitting the movers at my apartment previous, so now they are here as well going in and out the front door (with everyone else) with all the boxes and furniture.

Also present is non-human participant lil Ruthy. Lil Ruthy is a Toto-esque terrier mix, about 15lbs. She's not helping the movers, or even the flooring guy............she's just cruising in and out with whomever is doing the most interesting thing at that moment.

Things are going smoothly for the most part and it is a long, busy day. You know how moves go.

With floors tore up and boxes everywhere, me and lil Ruthy crash somewhere else. I don't even remember where now.

Anyway, the next morning I come back to the condo and I am going up the walk to the front door, as I note two things: 1. A black garbage bag to the left of the door. (The cleaning lady the realtor sent must have left it when she finished.) 2. A small, clear plastic bag leaning at the base of the screen door, knotted at the top. So my brain has already answered the question of what is in item #2. As I bend and pick up the bag, I am confident it is the shelf pegs for my bookcases. I'm thinking the movers forgot them in the truck yesterday and dropped them at the door. Now the bag is in my hand and I can see it better....I note some condensation inside the bag and then small-scale horror as I realize now -- it's a gift bag of dog shit! I'm thinking, "What the F***?!" As I quickly ditch the awful housewarming present in the garbage bag leaning there. I am unlocking the door eager to get in and wash my hands when I see a 50ish looking man coming up the main walk, headed by the front of my place. As I look at him he says hello to me and I say the same in return. But that's not all I say, because my intuition has already told me that this guy carries the mark of the tool. So I ask, "Do you know by chance who put a bag of dog poo on my doorstep?" I swear to god a slight beam of pride crosses his face and he replies, "Oh, that was me". Are you f ' ing kidding me dude?! I pause in total shock and say, "I'm sorry, but I thought the tradition leaned more towards cookies." Crickets. He totally doesn't get it; just starts some rambling bullshit diatribe about how he saw my dog follow the movers out and park one near the bushes yesterday afternoon and we all have to be really careful or we will get notes from the association. Blah...blah..blah -- Whatever dude! A dozen people in and out all day, new neighbor......don't cut me any slack by just letting me know. Nooo, go for the gold and literally choose to make a shitty first impression. Good times.

Dog Shit Man was born that day!

I love to mess with him, and now have built a 6+ year legacy of doing so on a regular basis. He always tries to say hello and chat -- sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. Now he is all twitchy when I walk by him because he doesn't know if I will return his wave or say hi when he does. Or he will comment on something he sees me doing like near my garage or whatever, in the hopes that I comment back, and most of the time I just look at him with a little smile on my face because I am loving how much of a tool he is. A few times he has seen me headed out somewhere dressed up and he will try to compliment me and I tell him something like "I'm going to a funeral" in the hopes that he feels like a jerk afterward. Last but not least, I NEVER use his birth name -- he will forever be known by his self-christened name Dog Shit Man. Friends, family, pizza guy-- you name it -- when they come over and his nosy ass is milling around the complex, I never hesitate to tell them who that douchebag is. Most of my friends and family (even my 72 yr old father!) call him Dog Shit Man. He earned it!

Afterword: Lil Ruthy's Revenge

DS Man has a dog named Benny. Benny goes everywhere with him and his wife has the most obnoxious habit of introducing herself as "Benny's Mom" [insert anti-anthropomorphistic gag here].

Anyway, Benny used to occasionally find lil Ruthy out in the front area and try the ole Wax That Ass! on her. Well, the other day Benny went in for a Who-who sniff, [pre-wax] and got his face bitten. Take that you little ugly Robin to your annoying human Crapman counterpart! I will admit that I was slightly disappointed to find that the big girly squeak that came out of him was not accompanied by a flesh wound. Oh well.