b Papa Dog's Blog: Going Back for the Poo

Papa Dog's Blog

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Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Going Back for the Poo

When you’re a dog owner – round these parts, anyway – you always have plastic bags in your pockets. Chronicle bags (i.e., the plastic bags used to encase home delivery copies of the San Francisco Chronicle on rainy days) are a perennial favourite for pooper scooping, but when the rain dries up so does the supply of bags. Long-time faversham followers will know I have a history of hoarding bags from the dog park. After the “Mount Mutt Mitt” incident, I made a guilt order from the manufacturer and have a crate of the things properly bought and paid for. Generally, I have four bags on me at any given time, one in each of the front pockets of my pants and jacket. If I pull a coat out of the closet that I haven’t worn since this time last year, I’m sure of finding a poop bag in each pocket. I replace the things automatically and automatically check my pockets before leaving for walkies to make sure they’re there. That’s why I was so baffled tonight when Doggy Dog took a postprandial dump on someone’s well-manicured lawn, and I came up empty in all four pockets. “How is this even possible?” I asked myself. Granted, I’ve been wearing a raincoat the last couple of days and a change in routine is known to throw one off, but still…to have not even noticed I was running low on crap grabbers is…well…un-me. We were a good five or six blocks from home, so I had no choice but to shut off my little Maglite, straighten up casually as though I’d actually picked something up (in case I was being monitored), and head on home with the dog while his poop cooled into an unsavoury welcome mat. I thought of begging a spare bag off some other passing dogwalker – somebody did that once from me, in fact – but this was the one night of the year when nobody else was out with a dog.

As it happened, we were going out anyway. I restocked bags. I got five, just to make sure I was ahead for tomorrow night. I had Mama Dog detour slightly on our way to the Pirates’ house and returned to the scene of the crime. The poo was cold by then. I don’t think I’ve ever scooped up cold dog poop. Somehow it makes you more aware that you’re picking up faeces. I hurried back to the cul-de-sac with the garbage can where Mama Dog was parked. At least my back’s feeling a little better, so I was able to walk more or less normally instead of shuffling along. We will teach Baby Dog, I hope, to be responsible and to have a conscience. But maybe we won’t mention that this means you have to go back later and pick up the poo.


Blogger RachelleCentral said...

I'm so glad you're like that too.
The other day, I was walking my dog when I saw dog owners with their lab. We stopped and played and then they walked ahead. To my horror, from a distance, I watched their dog take an ENORMOUS poop and they didn't even pretend to scoop! I tried to catch up with them to tell them off but they disappeared down a side street.

Once, in the dog park, a woman refused to pick up after her shih-tsu because she said, "His poos are tiny - like little pretzels." Yeah, right. My dog is smaller than hers and even she makes poos the size of her entire head.

Poo pickers-up, unite!

3:41 AM  
Blogger RachelleCentral said...

Um, and I also hoard plastic bags from the dog park! Especially now that in Australia there's talk of not giving you free plastic bags at the market. Instead, they're going to make you pay for each one, to encourage people to use recycleables.

3:42 AM  

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