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|"Time for a walk?"|
Working nights, I don't see much daylight. And as a result, neither does my dog.
So when we go on walks, not only do I need to make sure that I have a bag to pick up her poop, but I also need to have my cell phone for its flashlight app (which is really nothing more than a "turn-on-the-camera-phone's-flash" app).
It'd be easier if Sadie pooped in just one place. But she does this thing where the squats, looks up at me (every single time, it's kinda awkward), and then begins her business. As she's doing it, she moves forward on the grass, using only her front paws. She just dangles her back paws an inch or two above the grass, I assume because she doesn't want to step in shit.
As she shits and moves across the grass like a mischievous circus dog, she continues to shoot glances at me to see if (or make sure, I'm not sure which) I'm still watching.
And yes, yes I did just describe, in detail, the exact way my dog poops.
You're very welcome.
Needless to say, it is much more difficult to track down all of her little droppings in the dark when they are spread out over a large area, as opposed to normal dogs that poop, you know, in a pile.
During one of our recent walks, I bent over and found myself picking up a particularly hefty pile of poop.
"Wow, Sadie," I said, actually aloud.
There was so much of it, and I began wondering what I had fed her that day to produce such a large specimen. Furthermore, it was very hard, almost frozen. And it actually was cold; I did not feel its warmth through the bag.
After a moment, my brain began to piece together the clues, and I realized that I was picking up some other, much larger dog's poop.
And my gag reflex kicked in. For a brief moment, I thought I was going to vomit.
|Katherine Heigl's acting also triggers my|
gag reflex. Interestingly, it is also dog shit.
It begs the question: What makes your own dog's poop better than another dog's poop? Shouldn't they be equally vile?
Is it an issue of timing? Is there some "five-second rule" for dog poop, where it is totally acceptable to pick it up when it is hot off the press? Does the poop gain some mystical powers of disgustingness after it has gone untouched for a while and claimed a particular spot in the grass as its own?
Or is it just the sudden realization of the fact that you are holding shit of unknown origins that is the scary part? Is the reason I've never been scared to pick up my own dog's shit the simple fact that I knew exactly where it came from and (almost) entirely what she ate that went into forming that particular batch of crap?
It probably has more to do with the feeling that mothers and fathers feel about their kids. Where it isn't gross to use your fingers to wipe away your baby's snot with your sleeve. Because in a way, it is your own snot.
You created the kid. You created the snot*.
*Makes you want to stop what you are doing and make babies, amirite?
But with dogs, you didn't create the dog.
You love them, care for them, and treat them like your own child, but you didn't actually create the snot.
If that makes sense.
I suppose that the main reason why it is okay to pick up your own dog's poop is the fact that it is not only socially acceptable, but encouraged. If you walk your dog for the purposes of urinating and defecating, society expects you to leave the ground the way you found it.
And the way my paranoid brain works, I assume that everyone is peering out their windows during my walks with Sadie. Even if she just pees, I'll still whip out a bag and do this thing where I bend over and examine the wet grass so as to verify to any potential onlookers that the area is, in fact, clear of poop.
|He's not contemplating important things. He's making sure|
you clean up your shit. (Image via nymag.com)
But even with this explanation of why it is not gross to pick up your own dog's poop, the question still remains: why did I gag and drop the other dog's poop? Shouldn't the whole civic duty thing transcend dog ownership? Shouldn't I feel empowered to pick up the slack for the lazier dog owners and make the world a cleaner place, free of land mines?
I should be okay with it. But I'm not. Picking up another dog's poop just feels disgusting and creepy to me. It takes my own dog out of the equation and makes me some weird guy who is just walking around the streets with plastic bags wrapped around my hands, as I eagerly search for some dog shit to pick up.
I dunno. The question, "why is it disgusting to pick up another dog's poop but not your own?" is one that I will probably never be able to answer. Perhaps I'll stop picking up Sadie's poop and let another person answer it. Surely, that must be the reason someone left their dog's massive pile of shit in the grass for me to pick up.
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