We have a dog, a pomeranian, and he's the source of a lot of happiness and joy in our home. The happiness and joy part is based on his reaction to just seeing us. It's unconditional loving.
Now I have noticed in our politically correct world that dogs shit is a major issue in some quarters. It is considered to be litter on steroids. The specimen holding the lead is the culprit if some magical plastic bag is not produced to pluck up the offending shit. I was the subject of a snide passing remark today on this very issue, hence my need to talk shit a moment.
On a river walk near me at an hour on a Sunday morning when even the catholics aren't up, my little fur ball hunched down on the grass and did the business. Indeed, it was the purpose of the short trip. Anyway, this busybody with absolutely fuck-all else to do on the Lord's day but patrol the backwoods for shitting canines took a detour to tell me it was, 'disgusting.'
It was not the dog taking a shit that bothered the old prune but the nonchalant attitude of its owner that was bothering her. Now you're not firing on all cylinders at that hour of the morning and I'll confess to the open-mouthed dumb reaction to her unexpected comment. The sensible wooly coat and shoes toddled off into the distance and I was left looking at fur ball and a neat crap on the grass. Note, I wouldn't be letting the lad perform on the tarmac where some unsuspecting "decent" type might trod on it.
So with the retreating figure of the judgmental bitch one way and himself wagging his tail merrily beside me, I had time to ponder the dilemma. When I was growing up we did civics in school and litter was the subject of an hour long lecture one week. We covered litter in its minutae, what is was and why you shouldn't chuck it around in a civilized society. It was informative and in the course of which I learned about organic versus man-made. Our old chemistry teacher gave civics class too and I only ever knew the man as 'Dickie Rashers.' Oh he had a name I'm sure but schoolboys are happy enough with your nickname, happier actually.
Anyway, Dickie told us that organic matter blended beautifully back into the soil and in fact enriched it. According to Mr. Rashers, it was okay to throw an apple core out the window of a car because over time it broke down in the earth and was food for little animals. But Dickie knew his shit as well and for this earthy man, all shit was fertilizer. From a civics standpoint, if you were caught short on a country trek, it was apparently fine to drop the pants and do the biz as long as you were out of sight and the goods unlikely to be stepped on by anybody. Dickie even recommended bringing a toilet roll on such occasions. You see shit was good for plant life and in turn, plant life was good for us.
And when you think about it, it is all very natural and wholesome, almost green in fact. My Father used to put foul smelling manure down on our potato beds but the resultant spuds were glorious. My little maggot of a dog was only doing what came natural and he knows not to shit on walkways. And the very idea that scooping it up into a PLASTIC bag is somehow more flipper friendly is outrageous. Plastic doesn't degrade for thousands of years. Where would the nosey biddy have me dump the plastic I ask you? It won't fuck off on its own you know.
As I pondered further, I had the sense of being wronged. The retreating figure was by now gone but I did something I haven't done in years anyway. Opening the lungs to full capacity and turning the volume up as far as it would go, I roared, "YOU'RE TALKING SHIT."
The poor doggie nearly went again but I felt much better.