The joy of dog walking

I was out for a walk the other day, with my dog, when she stopped and squatted. Her back end quivered, and joy of joys, I realised she was having a poo.
Sod’s law, we were on a footpath and it naturally fell to me to pick up her excrement. It’s most unpleasant when it’s still steaming and squishy, in your hands when you haven’t got a bag with you. Fortunately, I had one that day. But it still it feels very wrong – as if you are picking up warm fresh dog logs with bare hands.

At this point, I really ought to apologise to my lovely little dog for embarrassing and shaming her in this blog. But she loves me so much that I’m pretty sure she’ll forgive me.

One thing that is certainly not best served fresh

I got to thinking. Here we are, humanity, perhaps the earth’s most sophisticated achievement. Certainly, the most intellectual and technological species existing on this planet, yet here I am picking up warm fresh dog turds.
Well, it certainly brings you down to size. Surely in this day and age, someone could come up with a better way of removing dog-shit from a footpath.

Snooty bastard

Call me snobby if you want to, but I really do think I am too good to be picking up dog’s excrement. I am a law abiding – but more importantly – considerate citizen, so I do bag it up when she craps on the footpath. Then I wander around with my little package of poo, looking for a bin to put it in. It’s undignified and it makes me feel like a right twat.

What a twat

I don’t know why the person I think of as ‘me’, is alive in human form and on planet earth. Whether my being in this world is the accidental result of trillions of infinitely unlikely coincidences, a God-given mission, or something that I am to make up for myself as I go, I cannot tell you. However, whatever my reason for being here, I did not arrive on this beautiful planet to pick up fucking dog-shit.

We have put men on the moon (allegedly), and we’ve invented some amazing things, but nothing for dog shit disposal.

Genetically modified

I was thinking that maybe we could put all that genetic engineering to good use for once. Breed a dog that eats its own shit.
Furthermore, we could invent a tasty topping with added vitamins that we could sprinkle or spray on the turds. This would be to make the faeces both delicious and nutritious so the dog would really benefit from eating it. Yummy Pedigree bum chum, so to speak

Granted you may have to form a different relationship with your dog. For example, you might not want it licking your face ever again. I must add – and I hope she can forgive me for saying this – I don’t honestly think that my dog’s breath could smell any worse if she did eat her own shit.

Death breath

Perhaps we should add breath freshener to the nutrition sprinkles that we put on that tasty little turd-burger.

Make it crunchy

Okay, maybe not the most popular idea ever, but we ought to do something. How about a spray that would dissolve or desiccate the faecal matter rendering it harmless. Sadly, I imagine that would be damaging to the environment.
Nevertheless, there are few things more difficult or unpleasant to remove from a shoe, than squidgy squelchy doggy dung. Therefore a spray that made it crunchy would be a massive improvement.


I can see no immediate solution to this problem, so dog owners are going to be stooping for stools indefinitely.

Who’s the intelligent one?

Nature’s most intelligent creation, wandering down the street with a bag of dog shit in his/her hand. While Rover runs off thinking ‘I don’t know why the idiot doesn’t sniff it nice and fresh as I do. Fucking weirdo, picking it up and carrying it around with him. Is he not happy with the mounds of it that I do for him in the back garden?’

How can anything shit out more than it eats?

Strange fruit

Nevertheless, any of these alternatives are preferable to the latest invasive plant species. You know, those trees with those black polythene-like hanging fruits, which line so many pathways nowadays. Oh no, they aren’t fruits, they are bags of dog shit. Some fuckwit, one day thought ‘I’ll hang this package of shite from this bush, and pick it up later’. Yeah right.

Hedgerow bling

Subsequently, some other twat walked past with their bag of poop, saw the new fruit and thought, ‘What a brilliant idea, I’ll hang my bag of shit from a tree too’. Then before you know it, every wayside tree is decorated with doggy-do baubles. It’s particularly unpleasant as bags bio-degrade, then when it rains they drip droplets of faeces on passers-by, like filthy melting icicles.

It’s no surprise then that human/dog relationships can be a bit topsy-turvy. How can your dog respect you when you grovel on the ground picking up his shite, and then you hang it in a tree?

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