A couple stories from the good ol' days:
When I was a senior in college, Christy and I shared a house with a guy we knew from work, Chip. There was also another roommate, 2 significant others, 6 dogs, 4 cats, a ferret and multliple tanks of fish and snakes, but they aren't relevant to this story. By the end of the year, Chip was no longer someone we would consider a friend. One weekend, Chip decided to have a party. We agreed to the party with one rule - no smoking allowed inside the house. Christy just got brand new This End Up furniture that week, in preparation for our moving out. The last thing she wanted was brand new cushions ruined with nasty cigarette smoke.
The party was big and loud and annoying, but really no big deal. We stayed upstairs and didn't have to deal with any of the people. I eventually went to bed and I think I even slept a little, until I smelled smoke. Not the oh-no-the-house-is-on-fire smell of smoke, but the those-bastards-are-smoking-in-the-house smell of smoke. I was pissed!! Christy's brand new furniture! I was gonna kill Chip! So, I promptly got out of bed and went immediately stomping down the stairs ready for a tussle. I was so mad that I didn't even bother getting dressed first. I stalked into that party... wearing only a t-shirt and panties... and I said absolutely nothing, but I grabbed every single couch cushion, even the ones people were sitting on, and took them upstairs. I'm pretty sure I had to make two trips.
Nothing says angry like a half-naked girl stealing people's cushions right out from under them! And, boy did those smokers learn a lesson that night! Now they know that if they want to smoke then they must sit on hard wooden seats. So there!
If you have a dog, you are responsible for picking up its poop. It's that simple. Except, for some people, it's not that simple.
I was in my living room one day and I saw a girl jogging with her dog. The dog pooped in my yard. The girl studiously pretended not to notice -- which was strange since she had to slow down her pace til she was practically jogging in place -- then continued with her run. Oh, no you don't, missy! I got a baggie and went out and picked up the poop. I then got in my car and drove around the neighborhood until I found the runner and her dog. I pulled up, got out and approached her. She looked surprised and even stopped running. I said, "Hey, your dog pooped in my yard and you didn't clean it up, so here you go," and I handed her the bag of poop. Which she took. Without another word between us, I got back in my car and drove away.