photo courtesy of: Hoboken Guy
Well it’s another gray and damp day. The sun is trying to come out but the clouds won’t let it. So today I’m in the mood to complain about other stuff besides real estate, which is why I’ve decided to write about dog poop.
I have a dog named Stella. She’s a rescue dog, 7 years old, brownish and a couple pounds over weight – you know what they say – a fat dog is a happy dog. Stella & I live in a neighborhood where every other home has a dog or two. Some have dogs and children but that will be blog for another day.
Anyway – we go for many walks. We walk up and down different streets, we walk near I-95 along Front St., we’ll walk where ever Stella wants to walk. And we both walk with our heads down. She’s sniffing the ground looking for the perfect place to poop while I’m making sure I’m not about to walk into a pile of poop. After a long walk my neck hurts from looking down so much.
Before we go out I put on my special poop sneakers. It’s a mine field out there and I figure it’s inevitable that I’ll be stepping in “it” and these are the shoes I no longer care about. What I don’t understand is: why would you get a dog if you’re not going to be a responsible owner. Do you really think I want to take your dog poop home with me? And while I’m at this complaining thing – what’s up with talking on the phone while walking the dog? I guess when you do that you don’t have an extra hand to pick up after your dog. Great excuse! “Hey dude – can’t pick up after my dog I’m on the phone with my bookie.” Oh please.
I’m thinking about carrying my camera phone with me everywhere. I’ll take a picture of the dog and shame the owner with a poster stating “Watch where you step – the owner of this dog doesn’t pick up poop.”
Maybe that will work – but I doubt it!