One thing about living in NYC – you really have to watch out for street scum.  And by street scum, I not only mean the gross fruit stand guys who hit on you and think giving you the occasional free orange will win your heart and then some (hypothetically); I mean quite literally the crap that is on the sidewalks of the city.  I have tirelessly worked to get Ella to stop sucking up discarded pretzels and hot dog buns – to no avail.  I have quickened my reflexes to a level I never thought possible, all so I can react like lightening when she starts licking the cracks in the sidewalk to uncover a dead baby mouse.  I have straddled her, my hands trying desperately to pry open her tight jaws so I can reach deep in her mouth to extract the chicken bone she snatched on the corner.  I have cursed loudly in frustration after she darts ahead and eats up something totally unidentifiable, struggling to even chew whatever it is – “Will you stop eating sh** off the street?!! Don’t come crying to me when you throw up!!!”

The most frustrating thing about the battle against street scum is that much of it could be prevented if humans would stop discarding food on the street and use this wonderful new invention called a trash can.  One day as Ella walked along casually with an empty bag of Lays potato chips she’d picked up on 77th street, a woman came up to me and said “That should be an ad for an anti-littering campaign”.  Amen, sister.

The worst culprits, though, are the restaurants.  Rather than discard the left over or unused/unbought vittles, they put the stuff out by the curb around the trees on the block.   Usually it’s bread – bagels, croissants, rolls – an Atkins dieter’s nightmare.  I can only think they do it to feed the pigeons – but – and I know PETA will slay me for this – pigeons are FILTHY creatures and while I’d never do anything to actively harm them (really I wouldn’t – I saw a girl try to kick a pigeon at the Bronx Zoo once and I had to be held back so I wouldn’t go over and kick her), I’m not exactly for providing them with regular meals each day so that they can thrive and procreate.  Anyway, point is, the pigeons won’t ever see that bread if Ella gets to it first.  And if I’m not one step ahead of Ella at all times, she WILL get that bread.

The most bizarre street scum I do believe I have ever seen – and I am a New Yorker who has seen it all and is rarely impressed by anything – was this sort of marinara street pie.  It’s not a pizza – there was no crust.  It was a stainless steel pan filled with marinara sauce.  That’s weird enough.  But the fact that someone made that and put it out by the tree?

Well I’m speechless.

You explain this because I can’t.

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