In better neighborhoods, women go on parade with their well-bred canine showpieces.  In this ceremony there are formalities to be observed.  A dignified pace is important: no running or jerking on the leash: sniffing hydrants is bad form.   And naturally these same formalities apply as well to the dogs.

Recent sanitary rulings have altered the esthetics of the promenade.  The women are required now to carry along plastic bags sagging with their pet's yet warm excrement. Nevertheless, fashion is maintained.  Opaque bags, white this season, are prescribed.   A transparent bag is unthinkably declasse.  Posture and comportment are modified now too.  Previously a well-powdered nose in the air signified a fitting haughty disdain, but now is simply avoidance of their aromatic baggage..

I appreciate the new way, even though it is demeaning for the ladies.  I remember the days before poop control.  As their dogs spot fertilized my lawn, the women paused to look skyward.  They expected me to assume they were scanning for meteors.  Then they would walk away from the deposits that were so much beneath their glance and dignity.  Ah, but now they must observe the process as their exquisite companions squat and deliver.  They must bend and gather the fresh intestinal transits into their plastic bundles and carry them along.

The new way puts a substantial strain on a woman's decorum, especially when she knows that I am watching.  Perhaps I shouldn't display my amusement so openly but I am really enjoying the retribution.