No poop left behind


I take pride in being the most conscientious dog poop picker upper in the world.

The worst thing that can happen to a dog mom like me is to have my dog poop while off leash at the dog park, and then not be able to find it. I have wandered icy fields in futile search of steam rising from Leo’s pile. Oh, the guilt, knowing someone is going to step in poop that I should have picked up.

When I take Mia to the park at lunch, she usually poops while I’m eating. Of course I wait until I’m done eating to pick it up; otherwise, that’s disgusting. While bagging it the other day, I thought, “This poop seems really cold to be from just a few minutes ago.” Then saw Mia’s poop a few feet away. Yes, that’s right, I even pick up OTHER dogs’ poop. That’s how conscientious I am.

On a few occasions, I’ve found myself on a walk without a bag and I have driven back to the location of the poop to pick it up.

And because I love the earth so much, I use biodegradable poop bags. I used to buy them at the co-op, but to be honest, they’re kind of small for Leo-sized poops. If you’re not grossed out by this post already, this should do it: With a too-small bag, you run the risk of getting poop on your hands. I ordered some Earth Rated poop bags online. They’re supposed to be lavender-scented, but really they smell more like old lady perfume. I have learned the trick to opening the bags is to get your fingers wet, either by licking them or touching wet grass, but maybe I need the dispenser, because sometimes I have trouble detaching a bag from the roll.

Lately, Rob and I have been walking the doggies after dark. Just out to the end of the block. When a dog poops, I bag it, then leave it on the curb to pick up on the way back. The other night, Rob noted the house number where the bag was, but I pretty much remembered the location. Last night, we didn’t check the number, but I was certain I left it near a mailbox.

On the way back, I was distracted because Rob was telling me some story about boobs, and two bicycles passed, and we had to cross the street to avoid a pedestrian, and while I was extremely proud of Leo for not barking and lunging at any of these things, I somehow missed the poop bag.

I insisted that Rob and I drive back down the block to retrieve it. Because what do you think when you see a bagged poop on the sidewalk? You don’t think, “Oh, a person couldn’t find that poop bag,” or even “That person forgot their poop bag.” You think, “What kind of jerk goes to the trouble of bagging poop and then not throwing it away? Like they’re doing me some favor of keeping me from stepping in it, but are not courteous enough to remove it entirely.”

We looked in front of every house with a mailbox but couldn’t find it. “Please, let’s go back one more time,” I begged. But Rob refused.

I had to go to sleep last night knowing that poop bag was still out there, but refused to relinquish the title of most conscientious dog poop picker upper in the world. In the light of morning, I drove down the block again, and saw the green bag flapping in the breeze in front of a house without a mailbox. So obvious I can’t believe we missed it, even if we were only looking at houses with mailboxes.

I retrieved it, threw it away, and all was right with the world.