Tag Archives: poop

The Poop Is Not On My Face

“Leave my dog’s butt out of this!”

There’s this crazy phenomenon going around. I’m not sure if it’s new or not. Maybe it’s just relatively new to me. I say relatively because I was introduced to it quite a while ago, but passed it off as a singular event because it has not been repeated . . . until this past weekend that is.

It goes like this.

You’re on a lively walk with your dog. He or she is behaving wonderfully. You look before you cross the street. You pass by friendly people who comment on your good dog. You feel good. All of a sudden your dog performs a normal bodily function. He or she poops. You take it in stride, pull out your disposable plastic bag, turn it inside out over your hand, and set to bend over to pick up the mess. Unfortunately, that’s when the poop HITS THE FAN!

What do I mean?

Well, a ne’er do well human being passing by takes it upon themselves to perform their self-imposed “civic” duty and yell at you to “Pick up the poop!”

That’s right people. Poop-shaming is alive, and it’s real.

It’s happened quite a few times when Theresa and I have taken Simon and Rosee out on their daily walks with people from inside their houses and driving in cars passing by taking it upon themselves to tell us what to do with our dogs’ output, despite the fact that we are already taking care of the problem.

And it’s not like our dogs are relieving themselves on someone’s well-maintained, pristine bed of crisp green blades. They go in public parks, in street gutters, and in empty desolate fields that are scattered around our hometown. Theresa and I are always very careful to make sure that Simon and Rosee go in places that don’t disturb the people around us. And considering all of the “waste” left in our public parks for weeks, you know until the city gardeners come and clean everything up, I feel pretty good about the way in which our dogs “go” in this world.

It’s just other people that don’t feel so great about it, unfortunately, and decide to impose their will on us otherwise unsuspecting good people.

Poop-shaming, it’s a terrible, horrible, no good thing.

Take last weekend’s jaunt for example. We are walking past an EMPTY field (one, mind you, that is already full of dirt, weeds, and every other piece of trash that exists—and is one that the City cleans up every few months or so) when Simon decided he needed to relieve himself. As I waited for him to finish and prepared to pick everything up, plastic bag already overturned on my hand, a lady pulled up in her car and decided I needed more “motivation.” She yelled not once, but twice to “Pick up the poop!” She proceeded to sit in her car and stare at me for a good few minutes. I refused to do anything with her creepily watching me, but after she yelled the second time and I actually heard exactly what she said you better believe I started walking towards her car asking her what was wrong with her?!?! Of course she took the coward’s way out and drove off as fast as she could. You know, so she didn’t actually have to deal with the consequences of her mean action, she just left that for me. Lucky me, right?

So, if my general audience doesn’t mind me taking a few lines to address all the poop-shamers out there. If you feel the need to poop-shame me, then do me a favor. One: Don’t yell at me. Two: Don’t yell at me. If I see my dog poop and walk away from it without doing anything, go ahead, say something, if only to put your mind at ease and feel like you did something productive during the day. But when I’m being a responsible pet owner, with a plastic bag on my hand, bending over to scrap the ground of excrement then DON’T YELL AT ME!

I have absolutely NO PROBLEM walking right up to you and telling you exactly how much better my dog’s poop smells than the vitriol you are spitting out at me at the moment.

You’re so-called civic duty is being wasted and I would hate to take that away from anybody else. Because, as of right now the poop is not on my face.


Whew! Thanks for that. Sometimes you’ve just got to let it out.

Anyway, for those of you who have ever been shamed or might be shamed don’t worry. It’s their problem, not yours. You know you are a responsible pet owner, so don’t let others three second judgments get you down. Ignore them, and keep on walking. I know, I know easier said than done, but it is so not worth getting a stomachache over a complete stranger, especially when you’ve got an excited and happy pup that has already moved on.

Learn from me! And don’t accept poop-shaming!

A Horrifying Haunt

“It’s a hard life when you don’t even feel comfortable in your own house.”

Said me.

It was dark and stormy night. No, wait. It was sunny? That’s right. And the middle of the afternoon. A nice lazy, sunny afternoon with temperate weather and the birds, thankfully, being quiet so as not to wake the sleepy pups. (The pups that had finally laid down to sleep after an hour walk that morning and a never-ending wrestling match on the living room floor afterwards. I digress.) Theresa and I were sitting in our front room, doing some work, when all of a sudden we heard it. That slight jingling glint that accompanies my worst nightmares. It was the sound of dog tags that belong on the little black and brown dog that lives just around the corner from us. What causes the nightmare-inducing terror you ask? Well, let me tell you. It is the fact that this dog, when he (or she) gets out of his house he makes a beeline straight for our front door, and I literally mean our Front Door. This dog, whenever he gets loose (which is quite a lot), runs as fast as his little legs can carry him over to our door and proceeds to attack it because he knows Rosee will be on the other side of it. Rosee, who hears him come by now of course, is right at the door barking her head off.

The whole episode is



scarily . . . annoying!

It’s annoying.

This dog used to just try to pee on our lawn (which he still does, and the poop is a nice—meaning not—new addition). He then graduated to barking at our front window at which Rosee would perch and bark at him. He quickly promoted himself to actually running into our flowerbed in front of said window in order to try and get to Rosee through it. Finally, he has reached where he is now, which is coming right up to the screen door itself and attempt to break his way through in order to get to Rosee. (And I say Rosee because Simon is not as territorially minded as she is, and honestly he just doesn’t really care much about other dogs in front of the house.)

It’s annoying. (Feeling a theme yet?)

What’s worse is that the offending dog’s owners don’t seem to really care about his neighborhood exploits. We’ve even had some of the dog’s human family members (kids as well as adults) come around the corner looking and calling for their dog, and yet all they do when they see them running amuck in our front yard is to stand there and watch. It isn’t until either our mother or Theresa (in a state of anger), after pushing Rosee back, goes out front to tell them to get their dog away from our yard that the dog is then finally captured and taken home.

What’s worse than worse? This afternoon’s incident is about the tenth time it’s happened. The tenth you say? Preposterous you exclaim? Outlandish you yell? Outrageous you shout?

I say, yes, it’s true. The tenth time.

It’s annoying.

The people are always slightly apologetic to our faces, but I’ve started to doubt their sincerity after the third time it happened. It was after this tenth time though that Theresa had really had enough. She marched out our front door and told the two kids that had run up to get (i.e. watch) the dog that they needed to keep their dog off of our front yard and away from our house because he attacks our front door and pees all over the yard. The kids agreed and quickly left. However, it was about five minutes later that some of the adults apparently piled in their car and came to do a slow drive-by of our house. The nerve! All I wanted to shout at them is that we have nothing to be ashamed of, and that they all need to start taking more responsibility for their animal. Theresa swore that the next time this all happens (because let’s face it there will be a next time) she is going to call animal control. Fact is, in our city any dogs that are found to be running loose and acting vicious and aggressive can be reported, and this particular dog is doing just that. Of course, it’s not an easy decision deciding to make a report to animal control, the department certainly isn’t known for leniency, but it’s necessary.

And I am not going to try and be shamed for having my house and dog attacked again, and my sister telling off the kids that are responsible for said attacker. I’m not going to be shamed for expecting better of my neighbors (and of their children). I’m not going to be shamed for hoping for a little more respect and consideration from others for my dogs.

Breed matters not here.

My dogs don’t pee on their lawns (or poop for that matter). My dogs don’t get loose and run all over the neighborhood. My dogs don’t attack other people’s front doors. (And the world would see their breed banned and destroyed!) I think it’s only fair that I expect my neighbors to offer me and mine the same courtesy that we show them.

So, ‘til next time.

Dealing with Doo-doo

Another day, another pile to deal with, and unfortunately it is not one that Simon left for me.

Out on a walk (déjà vu hitting you yet?), the sun was shining up in the blue sky with a nice little breeze keeping it from being overbearingly hot. Simon decided to be a stubborn little something and did not feel like relieving himself during the ten minutes we had already spent at the nearby park. So, we were forced to continue on our walk and hope he didn’t decide to just stall in the middle of somewhere more regrettable. Fate, meaning Simon, is not so amenable.

Halfway through our walk Simon just couldn’t take it anymore and squatted . . . in the middle of the sidewalk. Now, in the town that we call home there is a street that has one of those roundabouts, with a large patch of grass in the middle and four houses surrounding it. Simon decided to relieve himself as we walked on the side of this roundabout, right on the sidewalk next to one of these houses. We were literally one block from the park.

The four of us (me, Theresa, Simon, and Rosee) have walked this roundabout for the past two years (three years if you count the time before Rosee) since it leads the way to and from one of our favorite local parks. We’ve passed by all the same houses and people for that long too. And for the past few years we have been model walkers. Every single time Simon or Rosee poops it gets picked up, we even go buy the more expensive and thicker lavender –scented bags in order to do a better job of picking it up. Theresa and I always do our best to also keep Simon and Rosee’s marking instincts away from the nice and well-kept lawns we walk by. However, sometimes Simon (because it’s usually Simon) just can’t help himself and the instinct to go takes over.

So, Simon pooped on the sidewalk and before he could even finish with his private affair this, this lady. . . .wait, no, that would assume that she had more class. . .

This woman. . . nope, that’s just insulting to me and everyone else that identifies as such. . .

This coward shouted out of her open window to “Pick up that dog shit.”

And then she slunk back into her shadowed home to hide like the rude weakling that she apparently is. Because let’s be fair, no one just shouts and curses at two girls quietly walking their dogs without being just that. I mean the dog hadn’t even finished going, Theresa was just about to pull out the poop bag from the handy-dandy carrier we always keep attached to the leash, and it wasn’t even in front of her house! He had gone off to the side on the sidewalk, i.e. public property. Quite frankly we didn’t have to do anything, but we’re good people and like to actually pick up after our dogs, so we do and we did. Theresa picked up Simon’s mess and I just stood in front of the offending coward’s house and stared. I could not believe what just happened.

What happened to being a decent human being? To being considerate of others? To giving someone a chance?

Because, you know, I get it. I hate it when other neighborhood dogs poop on my front lawn, and they do it at least once a week. I hate that I go to take the trash out in the mornings and see little logs mucking up my grass. But I deal with it. I pick it up and throw it away. I get mad for ten seconds and then I let it go because it’s over, it’s done with. It’s just poop. Sure there are some people in this world that can’t stand it, that puke at the mere mention of it. Believe me, I have one of those in my own family. However, seeing this poop on my lawn, even seeing the offender caught in action has never made me curse and shout at anyone to go pick that shit up. Maybe this makes me a pushover or complacent, but I believe in just being a nice person. I believe in being decent and considerate. But I guess that’s just me (and the rest of you reading this blog).

It’s unfortunate that this had to happen. It’s unfortunate that now Theresa doesn’t feel comfortable walking down a street we’ve been walking down for three years because she doesn’t want to be verbally harassed (not that I can blame her). It’s unfortunate that one person’s meanness bleeds and stains another person’s happiness so easily.

Why can’t we all just get along?

Oh right, because this person didn’t have the decency to at least come and say what she had to say to our faces. If she did we could have assured her we were always going to pick up Simon’s waste, and that perhaps she should be a nicer person. (It would help with her blood pressure I’m sure.) And then maybe we could’ve at least saved her next unsuspecting victim from such harassment.

It’s such a shame.

Some people are the worst.

It’s a good thing dogs are better.