> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.smdp.com/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # The straight poop on loving your pet - URL: https://www.smdp.com/the-straight-poop-on-loving-your-pet/ - Published: 2007-11-06T16:00:00.000Z - Updated: 2026-10-24T03:49:51.000Z - Author: David Pisarra - Tags: Opinion, Santa Monica, #archive-import, Homeless HAVING A DOG IN YOUR LIFE IS A wonderful thing, not just because they keep the floors relatively food free, warm you at night, and are always glad to see you come home, but because of what they force you to do. A dog needs to be walked — mine goes out about four times a day with me, not including the trips to check the perimeter of our backyard for invading badgers. Walking a dog keeps you humble because, honestly, having to stoop down to pick up poop is something that will keep your ego in check. It is just not possible to be too full of yourself as you walk down your street holding a bag of poo. The other great thing about having to walk your dog is that it forces you to get to know your neighborhood. By walking four times a day, I invariably will meet people. The conversations frequently start off with the usual light banter of neighbors about the weather and such, but soon become more intimate, and you learn about your city that way. You learn who your neighbors are, what they like, what they hate, how politically involved, or not, they are. I have a couple of guys on my block who have been involved in local politics for years and it is always interesting to hear their take on the latest development out of the City Council. It’s amazing to me to see how some people really understand the politics of a small city, and others just don’t get it. There’s always the angry one who thinks that everyone is on the take, and that the developers must have paid off the City Council in order to get their latest project approved. And in other cases, there are those who think that there is just gross indifference to all that happens. My block is a very diverse block. We have homeowners, renters, condo-owners and a semi-permanent selection of the homeless. We have white people, black people, Asians, Hispanics, Persians, and both mentally and physically handicapped people. There are people who have lived here for decades, and others, like me, who just moved in. I like my neighborhood a great deal. I like the diversity of happily married couples, newly formed and just dating couples. I’m a single gay man who lives next door to a couple that have been married for more than a decade, and I have friends on this block who are still living the dream of bachelor life. This neighborhood has newborns and those who are close to being on their way out the door. We have people, like me, who are educated well beyond my intelligence level, and others who have trouble making change for a one dollar bill. Like all neighborhoods, we have feuds, we have alliances, we have the silent folks. We have the developers who are buying up all that they can so that they can pack in more condominiums and reduce the green spaces. I’m lucky that I can work from home easily and often; many of my neighbors do the same. We have artists and small business owners, musicians and hairstylists in this isle of creativity. The point of all this is that I was walking my dog last week, and this young man in a hoodie passes me, and then recognizes me from that picture at the top of this column. He stops me and says that he really enjoys my column and that he likes the fact that I am positive about my neighborhood. He likes that I don’t focus on the bad parts — the gang shootings, the traffic problems, the graffiti. He was a very polite young man, kept calling me “Sir,” which I liked on the one hand, and on the other, made me feel so much older than him, which I probably am. I asked him his name, but he wouldn’t give it to me. He seemed slightly shy, but he had dreams, and we talked about those dreams for a bit. I hope that he one day gets to realize his dreams. That’s the nice part about walking a dog. You get to meet your neighbors and find out their dreams. In most cases, their dreams are your dreams: A nice home, a solid happy life, some sense of connection to your community. My dog is important to me, and not just for what he does directly for me. But if he didn’t have to be walked often, I’d probably not know my neighbors, or their hopes, dreams and fears. Thanks to him, I know, and love, my neighborhood more than if he wasn’t making poop on a regular basis. *Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on November 6, 2007.* [Read the original PDF.](https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/smdp%5Fbackissues/110607.pdf?ref=smdp.com)