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Michael Brandow, a freelance dogwalker in the Village, hadn't had much luck interesting publishers in a nonfiction manuscript that he'd been working on for the past eight years. In 2006, in the course of his research, he called Alan Beck, a professor of animal ecology at Purdue. Beck happens to edit a line of books about the bond between humans and animals for P.U. Press, and he told Brandow that he'd give the manuscript a look. "I read it and thought, This is a really neat book," Beck said recently. "So I wrote to our publisher and said, 'Over the years, I've given you a lot of shit, but this is a good one.' " The result is a three-hundred-and-thirty-nine-page social history entitled "New York's Poop Scoop Law: Dogs, the Dirt, and Due Process." Its bibliography cites, among others, Caro; Scorsese; Dog Run: A Publication of the Washington Square Dog Run Association; and Glickman, L. T., Shofer, F. S., "Zoonotic Visceral and Ocular Larva Migrans," Veterinary Clinics of North America: Small Animal Practice, Vol. 17, No. 1, January, 1987. Brandow has dedicated the book to "My sweet Samantha," his shepherd-chow-beagle bitch.
"Dogs, the Dirt, and Due Process" comes out on August 1st, the thirtieth anniversary (a hundred and thirtieth or so, in dog years) of Section 1310 of the New York State Public Health Law, which formally decrees, "It shall be the duty of each dog owner . . . to remove any feces left by his dog on any sidewalk, gutter, street, or other public area," and which, informally, accounts for the abundance of tightly knotted Gristedes bags in local trash cans. (Pre-1310, the largely ignored "curbing" rule held that animals were supposed to go in the gutter.) Brandow, on the phone the other day from Montreal, where he is spending the summer, admitted that "a lot of people just rolled their eyes" at the mention of his subject, but he sees the law, and the "civil war" that surrounded its adoption, as an urban parable. Notwithstanding a few groaners ("Tension filled the air like the smell of feces that radiated from the pavement," "The number one complaint was number two"), the story--which begins in Nutley, New Jersey, in 1971 (some citizens band together against a neighborhood Great Dane), crosses the Hudson (a hundred and twenty-five tons of dog shit a day clotting the sidewalks of "Dung City"!), skips to Albany (Koch kicks the issue ...