Somewhere between the invention of the flush toilet and the rise of the luxury SUV, someone decided that walking a dog should also involve carrying its warm feces in a thin plastic sack. The dog poo bag - humble, horrifying, oddly political - has quietly become one of the most significant civic tools of the 21st century.
But I was wondering where did it begin?
A Short History of Sh*t Control
I found that the modern dog poo bag emerged in the 1970s, not in a design studio, but as a public health intervention. First in the UK, then in parts of the US and Germany, municipalities began issuing free bags to encourage dog owners to pick up after their pets, a radical shift from the previous norm of simply… looking away. Although I witness this kind of behaviour still occasionally when the dog walker thinks no one is looking.
At first, the bags were nothing more than flimsy grocery bags with a new purpose. But over time, they evolved. Dispensers appeared in parks. Rolls were designed to fit in branded canisters. And the bags themselves?
Black: for discretion. Green: for eco-guilt relief. Pink: for the cheerful nihilists. Here in Luxembourg they tend to be dark grey.
Form, Function, and Performative Morality
Carrying a roll of poo bags clipped to your leash says something. So does pulling one out with flair in front of strangers. It’s not just hygiene. It’s signaling. Proof that you’re a good citizen. A person who obeys invisible contracts - at least as long as someone is actually looking.
But the signaling doesn’t stop there.
There’s also the tie-and-leave brigade, those who diligently bag the waste, knot it into a neat parcel… and then leave it on a tree branch or trail post like a cursed Christmas ornament.
It’s unclear whether this is a failed act of protest, a spatial misunderstanding, or just wishful thinking that the Bag Fairy will collect it. In any case, it is rather disgusting and one of these bags just very nearly missed me during stormy weather the other day when I was out and about. It was a near death experience. I have a very sensitive olfactory perception and usually already almost lose consciousness when I have to clean the cat toilet (normally my husband does it for that reason).
Urban Behaviours and the Illusion of Order
In cities, the dog poo bag becomes a litmus test for how we negotiate shared space. Sidewalks, grassy patches, the tree pit in front of your house, all become contested zones. And the presence (or absence) of little black bags tells us more about urban trust than any town hall ever could.
The bag is design at its most invisible. Disposable. Functional. Slightly humiliating. And yet, it carries the weight of public expectation and private shame.
That’s a lot for a 12-micron sack.
Want more on how public space reveals what we value (or pretend to)?
Read and Explore the Battle for Public Space series → Urban Observations
written by Helen M. Krauss