Well, this is a “life experience” I didn’t anticipate commenting on in this blog. But I will anyway.

My wife and I routinely take Toby the Puppy on walks through our neighborhood. We have the routine down pat. We put his harness on him and grab a small plastic “poopy bag” — or maybe two. We use the bag to, um, pick up after Toby in the event he needs to relieve himself.

We did all of that this evening. We strolled west along our street, then south along a short street, then headed east on a street parallel to our own.

Toby then had to go. So … he did. I stooped over with the bag and picked up his “calling card.”

That’s when the sh** kinda/sorta hit the fan — if you will please pardon the pun.

The gentleman who owns the house that sits on the yard told us that we were standing on “private property.” My first reaction was that I thought he was making some sort of joke. He wasn’t. He was angry that Toby pooped on his lawn.

I told the fellow that I picked it up. His yard was clean. The fellow’s anger wasn’t assuaged. He said “that doesn’t matter. You need to teach him not to do that.”

Huh? At that point, we walked away. We deposited the soiled poopy bag in the trash receptacle down the street.

I am unaware of any training techniques one can use to “teach” a dog not to do what comes naturally to a pooch. I’ve always figured that the best option is to be ready to pick up after a dog — which we do without fail.

I think I’ll add this little caveat to the fellow who got angry with Toby the Puppy: Our un-neighborly neighbor spoke in what sounded to my ear like an East Coast accent, quite possibly from, say, the New York area.

Hey, I’m not casting aspersions on those who hail from that part of the country. I’m just sayin’ … man.