RANT
I've had it up-to-here with dog sh**.
On Sunday I went on a long run that included long stretches of grassy trail and park. What would have been an otherwise pleasant and relaxing run was marred by piles of dog poop littering the route.
Since dogs can't pick up their own waste, I blame the owners, not the canines.
Image source |
And there wasn't just one pile left behind by a hapless dog owner who had run out of plastic baggies. There were dozens.
Dozens of mounds of dog sh**.
For a full mile of the route, rather than focus on my stride, I had to focus on landing without stepping on a land mine of poo. Poo can transmit tapeworm, roundworm, salmonella, giardia (and the list goes on), not to mention that I just don't want it on my shoes.
I was angry enough that I started designing "Please pick up your poo." posters in my head. (What can I say, ranting doesn't solve anything. A good, pro-active response does.)
Plain and simple: Dog poo is a health hazard. (Not to mention disgusting...) Image source |
The next day, running a different route, disaster struck.
I went out for a run at dusk.
Sunset means less visibility. And apparently I stepped in an invisible pile of poo, which squished up around the sole of my shoe onto the fabric and hitched a ride all the way home.
Because it was dark, I didn't notice the contamination until I turned on the light in the entryway where I take off my shoes. By then, it was too late. The area rug at the front door was a goner.
The string of obscenities that came tumbling out of my mouth would have made a trucker blush.
If only I knew who the culprit was... I'd show up at their front door to deliver a plate of cookies. While wearing the not-washed shoes. I'd grind my feet into their carpet. And leave a delightful extra present behind in their front hall. On their rug.
Apparently I'm not the only one who feels this way... Image source |
So, tell me, what are you ranting or raving about this week?
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