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The dog-poo crusader would be wise to stay anonymous – after helping a newspaper campaign on the issue, I should know A shadowy figure in Lincoln, known locally as Pooperman , is targeting inconsiderate persons who allow their dogs to foul footpaths. Pooperman leaves notes such as this on the offending piles: “Don’t leave it. You might be the one who steps in it the next time you walk this way.” The local council’s environmental enforcement officer suggests that, rather than leaving notes, concerned Lincoln citizens should “observe dog owners to make sure they clean up after their pets, perhaps asking them to remove the mess if they try to leave it”. However, although Pooperman’s sentiments are eminently reasonable and, indeed, very politely expressed, he might do well to preserve his anonymity. Demanding face to face that an offender, pick up poo takes courage, and whether the owner is a tough with a terrier or a pensioner with a poodle, they are likely to be vocal in their defence of their dog’s right to go where it likes. The passions raised by poo run high, as I well know. When I was a lowly editorial assistant, the national paper I worked on decided to run an anti-dog-poo campaign and a large part of the co-ordination fell to me. Aspiring young journalists are eager for bylines on any topic, but there are more elegant subjects in which to be typecast. There is, of course, a serious side to dog fouling. The faeces of unwormed dogs can spread some very nasty diseases and all dog poo is deeply unpleasant stuff. But I was unprepared for the depth of feeling I encountered. I received abusive phone calls from both factions: the ones that felt we weren’t doing enough (were we meant to come and pick it up ourselves?) and those who felt our snazzy laminated campaign posters, which featured a dog and a steaming heap in a red circle, were offensive in themselves. The debate raged across our letters page week after week; MPs weighed in, local radio stations got involved and an entire class of schoolchildren each prepared individual projects around the campaign and proudly sent them in. I opened the post with caution in those days, but luckily no one felt sufficiently moved to send us a sample, though a suspicious-looking packet of dried sphagnum moss caused a false alarm that sent my colleagues fleeing. The moss had been sent by an inventive reader who felt that dog owners could carry bags of sphagnum with them to cover their dogs’ leavings. Ah, yes, the inventors. A surprising number of people had spent a surprising amount of time trying to address this knotty problem, presumably feeling that simply picking up the stuff and binning it was just too simple. For months after the campaign ended, eager beavers with too much time on their hands kept ringing me to describe in loving detail their long-handled grabbers, freeze-dry canisters, special pong-proof carry containers and so on. In the end, I had to get tough. “The campaign has ended,” I sternly told one. “We cannot possibly feature your poo bag design in this newspaper, however original it may be.” “I thought perhaps you were personally passionate about the subject,” replied the forlorn inventor. That would be a no. And I am, in fact, less passionate about it today than ever. I now live in the countryside, which is crammed with poo: cow poo, sheep poo, horse poo, bird poo. Sticking notes on all the poo that currently surrounds me would be a lifetime job for Pooperman and no one would read them anyway. My happy dog, like all his country neighbours, has untrodden acres in which he can poo where he likes – without bothering anyone. Animals Hygiene Hester Lacey guardian.co.uk