Sunday, May 2, 2010

A Word about Dog Poop

If you have a dog, there is no ignoring poop. It's there and you have to deal with it. I've been avoiding writing about it because of the subject matter. But no matter how hard I tried to avoid it, I just couldn't escape the fact that I wanted to write a word or two about poop.
If I'm working, I wait until the weekend to scoop the poops. If I'm not working, I scoop poop a couple times a week. But that's neither here nor there. Scooping in the winter is easy, the poop freezes solid and it's mostly easy to find because the ground is bare. Spring and summer are a bit trickier. You really gotta be focused. You gotta put on your poop goggles and really LOOK for poop. Especially if you have a blind dog that leaves poop in weird places. Or maybe they're not weird. I've never had a dog before, I don't know where they usually leave poop.
I find poop nestled like bird eggs in the middle of bunches of grape hyacinth. I find it hidden under low clumps of ornamental grass like forgotten Easter eggs. I find Daliesque poop, artistically draped over the branches of an azalea bush. I find poop up against the fence, on top of large rocks, and on stepping stones. And more often than not I find myself thinking "How in the world did he get it THERE?"
Fall poop is probably the hardest to find. Once the leaves are on the ground, poop becomes like landmines, hidden and waiting, but without the deadly consequences. No matter how gingerly you step and how carefully you creep around, at some point you are going to step on poop. You smell it before you see it, but only AFTER you have stepped in it. It's inevitable.
I'm done. That's my word on poop.

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