Listen to The Poo Fairy
Clean after your dogs you slobs
Dogs come with two promises. The first is that we expect to live longer than they do. We fall in love with them. Then they die. They are adorable, trusting and playful. They become our unwavering companions.
Their last gift? They die. We get to learn about grief.
Each little pitty pat of feet puppy tapping across hardwood floors is a promise of devastating pain. One day the fetch will end. The walks will end and you’ll be left with little more than a huge vet bill and an empty life.
Enjoy your puppy.
The next thing that dogs should teach us about is responsibility. We are responsible for them. No, the cyclist should ride their bike on your street. Control your animal. No that child didn’t put it’s face in your mastiff’s mouth on purpose. Control your animal. That leg was not slutty. It did not ask to be humped. Control your animal.
Your dog and all they do, is your responsibility.
So that intact male husky? Please ask your dog to remove the husky testicles1 from its mouth.
Animals have many impacts.
In addition to my dogs being among the two noisiest in the world,2 they are two little sniffing, shedding turd factories. The combined weight of the two of them is less than twenty five pounds.
Together they are barely a dog. And yet, their capacity for poo production far exceeds their small size.
Last night walking the dogs they did their job. They were good boys. They went poo poo outside. In the park.
I could see my task clearly. I had to pick up the leavings from my dog. Luckily, the glistening nuggets were sitting in an area bathed in streetlight. This trip wouldn’t require the intensive and complicated choreography of holding two dogs on a leash while using the light on my phone to see as I picked up the turds.
Having said that? I wish I used my light.
Luck, as it happens, can be both good and bad. My good luck of seeing my dogs turds in the light turned bad quickly. Things went wrong when I stepped from the path to pick up Rodney’s loose leavings.
Things went wrong?
Things went wrong. In my efforts to clean up after my dog, I stepped in a gigantic pile of dogshit. It was slick. It was vast. It was disturbing. What kind of dog takes a shit this big I shuddered to myself as I attempted to scrape the poo from my shoe on the asphalt path.
It was then that I remembered the poo fairy. This would be a good story for him.
The Poo Fairy seems to live either in, or near a large local park that is frequented by dogs. He regularly collects, bags and photographs dozens of bags of excrement from irresponsible dog owners.
These folks must have missed the memo about what a dog is for. They are here to die before we do so we can learn to grieve. While they live, they are here to teach us to clean up shit.
As much as I like the idea of a poo fairy - a magical someone who delivers turds under the pillows of ‘deserving’ dog owners who don’t pick up shit and ruin parks, I would rather people just dealt with their dogs shit.
As I was musing about telling this tale to my pal The Poo Fairy, I was on my way back up the path. I passed the area where I had attempted to clean this gargantuan poo from my shoe. As I did? I stepped in it again. Not the original mess, but the mess I made in reaction to the first one.
I took someone else’s’ dog turd from the woods to the path via my shoe, then completed the circle by stepping in it again.
That’s kinda what happens when we don’t clean up our own shit. People get caught in it and things get messy. When your shit is emotional, behavioral or actual literal shit, clean it up. And if it falls from the arse end of your grief professor? Treat it as though it had fallen from your own inner piping bag.
And perhaps, if we could learn to take responsibility for our dogs shitting everywhere randomly, we’d stop behaving the same way.
It’s like the old saying by the Poo Fairy goes: Clean up after your dogs you slobs!