New Yorkers, How I Love Thee. Morons.

I was just out walking Carl the rat terrorist near the 135th St. Station. There’s a line of trees along the block leading to the station. As Carl and I turned around to walk back home, a Hispanic guy comes out from the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture yelling, “Hey! Hey! Hey!” I, of course, ignore him until the third or fourth yell. (My feeling being that if you want my attention, you’ll come up to me and say, “Sir,” followed by your request.)

When I turned around, he, in an asshole tone, says to keep the dog off the plants*. I was so close to making fun of the request it isn’t even funny.

 The scene of the crime. Those trees are the only ones for two or so blocks.

Now, I understand he’s probably only lived in New York City his entire life, but — and I hate to break this to such provincials — in the rest of the country and world, animals do piss on plants. And he should appreciate Carl’s pee, given how near-death those plants appear. I’ve walked Carl there since we moved here when walking Misty to the station each morning. And, unlike most folks around here (and the French), we actually pick up his poop.

Another doofus New Yorker.

Misty just sent me this, which states there are no New York laws against dogs peeing on plants. Though it is probably private property. Who knows? New York City laws are crazy.

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