It sits there on the borderline between a restaurant and a private office. Five days and counting. Right there on a main street sidewalk, ignored by everyone.
If I owned the private office, I would check out the frontage from time to time, making sure at least my stretch of sidewalk was presentable. Professionalism, you know.
If I owned the restaurant, I would remove that fossilizing pile of dogshit. After all, the aim of a restaurant is to maintain, not kill, an appetite.
And if I owned a dog, I would make sure to pick up its crap.
But this is downtown Plattsburgh. Why worry?
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