Caught on tape

I'm a big believer in cameras.

Years ago, following an incident with a man-child neighbor that involved my lawn, rock salt and $600 worth of replacement grass, I decided to install a security system. My wife and kids thought, and still do, that I was crazy.

But like all Siegels, I do not make for a very good victim.

The cameras went in and thanks to the magic of video I have a pretty good idea who the culprit was.

Years later, the good people at Nest came out with newer, fancier security cameras that record in fabulous HD. And because they did their due diligence and confabulated the flik flaks with enhanced HTML-Java 9, DSC technology, those cameras can also record in wonderful infra-red.

Meaning my little Culver City castle enjoys round the clock surveillance.

This came in handy last week.

I was walking to my car and just to the left of my walkway I noticed a Mount St. Helen's-sized mound of dogshit. Not only was this multi-part hill of excrement huge, it was moist. You don't have to be a forensics graduate of the FBI Academy to know that it was left there not too long ago.

So I cancelled my afternoon appointment and went back in the house to go to the videotape.

There were a lot of cars passing on the streets. Lots of moms pushing their $300 Swedish-made baby strollers. And a lot of Mexican guys in vests plastering doorsteps with coupons from the local dry cleaners, pizza shops and real estate officers.

But then, there was also this...



Jackpot.

Here's the deal.

Dear skinny, cavalier lady with the little brown Siberian Husky. You'd be better start bringing plastic baggies on your dog walks and remove the massive dumps from my lawn or I will find out where you live and in the middle of the night gladly return the favor.

Oh, and I don't have a dog.