Friday, March 17, 2006

Dog Shit

[To be read with a hand-wringing Andy Rooney-esque whine]

What sparks the turning point in human behavior, and just what do I mean by this? Well, let me tell you. I'm talking about the popular use of plastic bags, usually saved over from the produce dept., finding utility as dog shit scooper-upper devices. Just how did this next level in dog-walking etiquette go completely unexamined, and is it ultimately meaningful or just lending to a false sense of personal responsibility in an out-of-touch world?

Rewind to simpler times. It used to be a world full of clean-cut gas station attendants sporting white uniforms. Yes it was a bountiful America, replete with petticoat girls and lazy lemonade stands. It was Sophie Tucker on the victrola, a bumper crop of corn, and loose chunks of dog shit rolling around the lawn. Yes, I said loose, unaccounted for, and haphazard chunks of dog shit everywhere --and people didn't die!

ever wonder just how much dog shit is out there?

I recall walking to school each morning, having to dance around perilous canine excrement left behind by dogs and their owners during the previous night. Each pile was a signature: some were fresh steamers; some were festooned with embedded crayon bits; some could be mistaken for perfectly delectable Tootsie Rolls; and some were crazy-looking white and powdery, having seen better days. It was all fair game. Dog shit happened.

Then something changed all that simplicity.

Communities are now less integrated; there are more chain-link fences to separate us; people walk in straight determined paths not daring to look into the eyes of an on-coming pedestrian. We lead insular, self-focused lives. So it follows that our humanity never goes out for a walk, but for the grace of our beloved and fashionable dog. And so an opportunity is born for us to give back to our world by bending down and deftly handling fresh hot turds and disposing of them personally. By picking up our dog shit we are saying, "I'm progressive and I'm doing my part to expose the Bush Administration". By picking up our dog shit we exclaim, "in this litigious society I'm protecting you as I protect myself, not that I really give a shit".

Is this really where we want to go, folks?!!! I mean, for heaven'sake, WAKE-UP! Let friends, family and neighbors step in dog shit and stop this pious busy-body effort to rescue everyone from it!

Let America stand firm!


Anonymous said...

I'm hearing Andy Rooney when I read this post.

While I recognize you are writing as a light-hearted curmudgeon, I am moved to respond in a serious fashion:

1. I hate stepping in dog shit, and I don't want to subject anyone else to the irritating inconvenience.

2. Our last dog was coprophagic (ate dog shit if she got the chance). This is a great way to get worms, and she did. So for me, it's really a public health issue to pick that shit up.

Geritopia said...

Curses! You've bested me this time Anonymous, but I shall rule again one day!

paul said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Joey Polanski said...

When I was out walkin my dog, a nayber come runnin outta his house yellin bout dog shit on his lawn.

I said, "Sir, my dog dint do nothin on yer lawn."

Ill nevr ferget his rply. He said, "Yeah? Well I jus dont like th look o that dogs ass!"

paul said...

One day, Anonymous, someone's gonna wipe that coprophagic grin off of your face.

Cocovan said...

I like to walk around in my bare feet!

linda said...

remember the time your date stepped into your car with dog-poop affixed to the bottom o' her shoe? she'd told me later that she'd initially thought your car smelled really bad for some reason, but later she'd realized that her shoe was the culprit and she was mortified. fun story...memory lane, etc./blah blah.