Eight months of dog poo is no small amount! (
That got your attention).
Allow me to indulge you in a story: (It looks long but is so worth the read).Picking up "fecal matter" is a repulsive, degrading and downright dirty task - making it far to easy to procrastinate. Last Fall I put it off for several weeks, telling myself daily, "I'll do it tomorrow." Tomorrow came, and my husband surprised me with divorce papers. Suddenly, picking up poo became the least of my worries.
My back yard quickly became a war-zone, perilous landmines scattered within every stepping distance. I ignored it for six weeks as I desperately fought to save my marriage - a fight I lost. I was greeted with winter, and the accumulating landmines were enshrouded under a blanket of beautiful white snow. I was at ease.
Until Spring arrived. With the snow now gone, and the soil heating up, the dreadful state (and smell) of my back yard was apparent, revealing eight months of damage. I knew I had to undertake the daunting task
eventually... so I grabbed an old garbage bag and went to work.
Two days later I was done! I stood with pride as I admired the fresh earth and huge bag of poo before me - a testament of the feat I had so "courageously" accomplished. (Imagine head held high, hands on hips, legs planted firm and wide, and chest in air. Yeah. It was good to be me). Now to throw it away.
To throw it away. Hmmm... to throw it away. It was heavier than I had expected. I didn't really take that into consideration during the monotonous two days of work. How was I gonna get it into the dumpster? No problem - nothing a little momentum couldn't take care of. I held the dumpster lid up with one hand while mustering all my strength in the other. Swinging the bag I counted silently, "One...two.." (You see it coming, don't you)?
"SHIIIIIIIIIII....P!" (Only I'm pretty sure I didn't use a "P." In this case, completely appropriate)! I was utterly shocked as the bag ripped open and poo rained down upon me in all its forms; old, new, soft, hard, wet, dry, fresh and composted. The best I could do was to cower, as the final mist of pungent poo settled over me, the acrid smell inundating my unsuspecting nostrils. Of course, the wind was against me, insuring complete coverage.
(Hilarious, I know). I let out a loud and excessively long yell of disgust, as I glanced down my street searching for witnesses. I was alone. Are you serious? Did that really just happen? AND NO ONE EVEN SAW IT?! I burst out laughing, as I began brushing myself off and spitting poo-dust from my mouth, still stupefied over what had just happened. I grabbed my push broom, defeated, and began, once again, to clean up 8 months worth of dog-poo, laughing the entire time.
Moral of the story: Clean up life's poo before it's so heavy you're covered in it! I don't know... that or "Use a hefty bag when cleaning up after your dogs." Either way, you get the idea.
The end.
