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An Open Letter To Someone I Made up To Prove an Incredibly Petty Point

I cannot believe this has to be said out in the open on the internet instead of in private like a reasonable person might do, but I’m afraid I just can’t do that since you do not actually exist. Also, this is the only way to prove to the world that I don’t think I should have to pick up my dog’s shit every single time I take Bubbles for a walk.

Don’t get me wrong. I used to do it when he was a puppy, back when his poops were manageable pellets. But they’re like the size of tennis balls now. Gross! How dare you not consider my plight as a dog owner as I construct a fully fleshed-out narrative in my head that I am clearly the victim here. So inconsiderate of you.

I can even picture with total clarity the belittling looks I imagine you’re giving me as I walk away from a freshly untouched poopie on the sidewalk completely unconcerned with the bottoms of pedestrians’ sneakers. If it weren’t for your condescending attitude I made up entirely, I wouldn’t have to think about real people at all.

Maybe put yourself in my shoes for a minute. Think about what it would be like to have to touch dog shit with nothing but a flimsy plastic bag separating the turd and your hand. Oh, what’s that? You can’t imagine that because you’re not real? Unacceptable. Please do better.

The tone I fantasize you taking with me speaks volumes as well. Seriously, so what if one time my dog took a dump in the middle of Walgreens on the hottest day of the year and I pretended not to notice? It was magically gone the next time I went in and that’s what counts.

Besides, I think your hypothetically demolished checkerboard Vans are going to be fine after spending an hour carefully removing the feces from each tiny crevice on the bottom of your sole. So grow up and please think about someone else for a change.