The Log Log

Foreword: This post is about poop. So as to not use the word too much, I tried to use synonyms in  places. There are some synonyms I refuse to use however, such as 'doo doo', 'poo poo' and '#2'. One can only be so creative. Please excuse the overuse of the word poop. Please also excuse the decision to write an entire post about poop.

The rules:
Do no walk on non tree-lined streets.
Do not walk less than 20 minutes.
Do not go anywhere without the 'diaper bag'. Bags are not optional. (Let me tell you, a used kleenex doesn't really cut it. It will work, but it's not a pretty sight.)

There is good even in the process of poop. Her body is letting me know it is functioning properly. When she is forced to wait while I collect the feces, she has to practice patience. And when it is colder than comfort allows, and you forgot your gloves....well...putting the *sealed bag in your pocket...not the worst idea that has ever come to me. (I have told only a couple people of this. It has been met with disgust, disgust, and then approval. The disgust from a stranger and a 'friend'. The approval from my dad.)

When I am tired, I beg her at every dirt patch to squat. She pretends not to hear me. The picking of a poop post cannot be rushed. When the deed is done, we scour the sidewalks for a garbage can. Alleys are home to most refuse, along with most rats. I have encountered so many rodents while chucking her shit. The rat is pleased to see me dropping off a midnight snack, and Bela is pleased to hunt the rat, even at a leash's distance. Such a win-win. My pleasure at said situation is really off the charts, as well.

I often walk deep into the night, fearful that should I go home without providing her with the proper 'warm-up' time, she wiill not go and then will have unsatisfactory sleep. But she may actually know that the sooner she goes, the sooner she is heading inside. There may be a method to her madness! Now yes -- I know, I know, dogs actually EAT poop, a questionable move, indeed. But their decision to occasionally indulge in common rat fare themselves need not discredit their ability to manipulate.

Lady B is also quite demure, and as such, prefers to be discreet about her duties. If I so much as look her way, she will pop up, ending the process right there. She will not even consider going if there is a sign of life on the same block. She will only poop in isolation.This is especially enjoyable at night, when I am fearful of being mugged, since she ups my chances of becoming prey.

As I mentioned, I have picked up her stools with some shoddy objects. Used kleenexes. Leaves. Discarded poop bags, found nearby, of which I am able to use a small section of. (The use of these actually appeals to my thrifty side, and were I to reveal this to my cheapskate father, I think he would actually beam with pride.) A Starbucks cup, that had contained another brown concontion only minutes earlier. (This was, what I thought a genius move, reducing, reusing and recycling to the utmost degree. And the contaniments were so concealed in the cup. But this genius move really got to me. I gagged on my way to the garbage can. The cup that I had lifted to my lips only seconds earlier...)

I now see plastic bags as gold. Bronze, rather, since most of mine come from Jewel and are tinted brown.
I horde them. When running low, I will buy a pack of gum and quadruple-bag it. I ask friends for their extras, take them out of the garbage can at work.  If I see one blowing in the wind, I'll pick it up. They are the equivalent of street pennies. You acknowledge they are tainted, but they still have tangible worth. And so, even in the face of an observer, you pick it up (be it penny or poop bag); and the momentary shame you feel is replaced with a sortof proud humility, if that can exist. You hold your head up, as you humble yourself to the offerings of the street.

Despite the occasional scavenger hunt for a means to pick up things, I have never once left her remains on one inch of this fair city. I would walk home and circle back if I had to. (Although, let's be honest - with my low expectations for pooper scoopers, that would seemingly never be needed.)

That said, I am always shocked to see how often I find the fecal matter of other dogs just lying around. I cannot imagine having the audacity to leave it. Apparently, there are many dog owners who do not take pride in wiping the earth clean of their animal's exrcrement.

I am no such soul. As long as I have a canine companion, I will respectfully tend to her toiletries.