The curse of dog poo on our streets is back.

When I started my journ-alistic career on provincial papers, it was one of the issues that most frequently vexed councillors and letter-writers.
It seemed to flare up and die down again every few years and polarised the doggy and non-doggy camps to entertaining effect. There was even an amusing debate, in the late 80s I think, into the mysterious arrival and subsequent disappearance of white dog poo.

In recent times the intro-duction of fouling by-laws and poop-scoops saw a reduction in the problem. But now it’s back with a vengeance.
The other day, I found that everywhere I walked in town I encountered mess on the pavements every 25 yards or so. Parks and playing fields are becoming no-go areas for children again.

But I can’t say that I see significantly more people with dogs on the streets. So what’s going on? Are they sneaking out at night and in the early morning?
Now, in general I quite like dogs and they seem to like me, but I’ve never really got on with the whole dog ownership thing.

I have no problem with working dogs on farms and country estates, and if there is open land on your doorstep, what’s the harm?

But urban areas are another matter. A dog needs exercise and somewhere to poo, and parks and pavements are simply not fair game.

Yes I know there are plenty of responsible owners, but for every one that carries a poop-scoop there are half a dozen that don’t.

By-laws are pretty useless. Who’s going to march up to a tattooed thug and say: “I’ve just seen your pit bull foul the footpath. What’s your name and address so I can report you to the authorities?” Does anyone know of any successful prosecutions?

But why do people want dogs in urban settings anyway? OK. the tattooed thug’s pit bull makes him more intimidating, weedy oiks trying to boost their limp machismo might also want one, and lonely old ladies might want companion-ship and security, but what’s in it for ordinary family folk?

There’s vet’s bills, the (admittedly slim and over-hyped) danger of dogs turning bad and the bother of what to do with them when you go away.

Perhaps it’s hen-pecked husbands who want a pal that doesn’t answer back but offers brown-eyed loyalty and devotion. And an excuse to go to the pub.

So I’m not a pet person. Anyone who can send me a good justification of why they need a dog in the town will receive a copy of my Korean cook book.

In the meantime, pick up your pet’s poo, please.