CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE TURD KIND
Dog poop is not a subject people are thrilled about discussing no matter how we try to euphemise it. After all, “Doggy do,” “It’s ‘business’” and “Whoopsies” all amount to the same thing. But, as the saying goes, “‘it happens”, so in deference to my more sensitive readers I will stick with the popular palindrome instead of the more common, cruder four letter word.
There is a dog somewhere in my neighbourhood who has decided for whatever reason to use the piece of city grass in front of my house (that I keep mowed) as is its own personal lavatory. I have a few ideas as to which one it is, but as yet no absolute proof, because this creature’s bodily function is far from regular and may occur as infrequently as once a week, so I haven’t actually caught it “in the act”. However, the size of its deposits would suggest that it’s either a Newfoundland/Rhodesian Ridgeback cross . . . or an extremely healthy Dachshund!
I’ve tried various ruses to deter this canine crapper. I’ve sprayed Cayenne pepper over the entire front lawn and when that didn’t work a complete canister of “Dog repellent”. A colleague suggested I try “moth-balls’ but I figure the only way they will work is if I invest in a slingshot and nail the creature on the rump from twenty feet when it’s in mid-squeeze!
A friend of mine once watched an owner waiting while its leashed pooch dumped on his driveway. His response was to scoop Fido’s folly into a paper bag, follow the two of them home then hand the package over with a polite, “I believe your dog dropped this.” He swore it did the trick as they never bothered him again.
Another buddy had a similar problem but this time it was the “unwarranted watering” of his prize rhodo. Knowing it occurred at night and not wanting to keep watch, he rigged up a small electric fence around the bush. Unfortunately for him the phantom piddlers turned out to be local drunks on their way home from the pub . . . and they were far from amused.
I’ve thought about putting a sign up and maybe some bags like they do in our parks, but if it’s the animal I suspect then it will make no difference. This beast walks itself and lives in the middle of twelve acres that it only leaves when nature calls.
Bad though the problem of defecating dogs is in my area, it is nowhere near the magnitude of that in the UK. The last time I was there I found myself “hop-scotching” along pavements that more closely resembled an Iraqi minefield than a public thoroughfare.
I love all animals and always have done . . . especially dogs. Sure I get mad when I look out my window and see that there’s been another “vistitation” but with the owner . . . not the animal.
So please, scoop up after your pet. It really doesn’t take that much effort and it will make me so much happier . . . not to mention a great number of local joggers!
