Magic Dog Poop Trick

I have this pretty fancy trick up my sleeve or at the bottom of my pant leg. I think it could totally become a dog walking trend. I walk my boys and dog to school most days. I get pretty crotchety old-man irritated by dog poop on the sidewalk or right next to the sidewalk because that’s also a danger zone for three running boys. Or me. I typically try to carry a plastic bag for my dog’s poop. Because, inevitably, if I don’t have a bag, he will poop… two times. If you’re like me, you may not have the best memory. Or you may get easily distracted when you enter your house to grab a poop bag and accidentally may never return to find your dog’s poop. You had the best intentions, right?
Here’s a simple way that you can prevent this poop faux-pas from never happening again. Never. I guarantee it. Drum roll.
May I introduce the idea of taking off your shoe as a poop marker? Say what? That’s absurd. Yeah. Yeah. It’s a bit awkward walking the rest of the way home with one shoe on. And your neighbors or spouse may think or say, “where’s your other shoe?” But, you will not forget where your dog pooped. You will be able to walk back with a plastic poop bag, pick up your dog’s poop and then put your shoe back on.
Ba-da-bing. Ba-da-boom.
“But how did you think of this? This is amazing,” you may be thinking.
One day, my pre-coffee morning brain came up with this “poop shoe” idea when I had taken my dog for a long walk. Basically, I was in my head feeling like I needed to contribute to society more. So I decided to start picking up some of the trash everywhere.  I let my dog off of his leash to run around. I never seem to be able to go to those “clean up the creek” days so I thought I would just use a previously found mulch bag and start filling it with trash. I seized the moment. I cleaned up the creek. Well, not all the way. It was too easy to fill up the mulch bag with empty cigarette packs, 40’s, snack wrappers, etc. Littering. Ugh. Another thing that gets me ready to take my shoes off. I don’t even know what that means but it did sound serious. Don’t litter. End of story.
After I filled my trash-mulch bag, I realized I had lost my dog’s leash. Somewhere in the woods. Dang-it. Well, good thing I had my handy dandy plastic bag. I went all boy-scoutsy and tied the plastic bag to my dog’s collar and used it as a very short leash on our walk home. You’ll never guess what my dog did about five houses away from home?
He pooped.
Crap. Literally.
I couldn’t use the plastic bag that was now being used as a leash. I decided to take my shoe off to mark the poop. A committed move. I was dedicated to the cause of picking up my dog’s poop. I one-shoed my way home, took my dog off of his plastic bag leash and went back to reclaim my shoe and clean up the dog poop like a good citizen who detests stepping in dog poop.
You will most likely be surprised to learn that there was not a choir of angels in my driveway upon returning home. However, in my head, there were a lot of crotchety old folks giving me high-fives.
I’ve used the poop shoe trick several times since this first “losing the leash” occurrence. I’ve tried to persuade my husband but he would rather use those gas flags or other random items. I know he put a gas flag next to a dog poop the other day. You will have to ask him if he remembered to go back and pick up said poop. If it’s not your shoe and you’re easily distracted, chances are, that poop is going to end up making someone say, “SHIT!”
Poop Shoe Disclaimers:
*I can’t be held responsible if you have a funny neighbor that goes and gets your shoe out of their yard while you head home for a plastic bag. I do love that neighbor, though, so send them my way.
*It stinks if the ground is wet. Wet socks are the worst. One wet sock is pretty annoying. NO, actually, leaving your dog’s poop in somebody else’s yard is the worst and the most annoying.
*Why don’t you just take two plastic bags? Oh, stop, with your simple-mindedness.
*Dog diarrhea….this is a difficult subject matter. I’m not ready to talk about this yet. Please wait for a future blog post addressing this challenging situation.

Rescue Guineas

imageI was watching a tear jerker of a video* today that a friend posted. A middle-aged man desperately needed to lose weight. He was morbidly obese and his nutritionist told him to go adopt a dog from the shelter. It would encourage him to be outside and he would meet people. The man purposely adopted an overweight middle-aged dog, so they could relate to each other. They immediately bonded. Both of their lives changed for good. They lost weight and both had more positive outlooks on life. I cried when he talked about lying down next to his dying dog. At the end, he questioned whether he rescued the dog or the dog rescued him. They rescued each other. My four year old son wanted to watch the video twice.

I just went upstairs to feed our rescued guinea pigs some limp celery. Turns out it’s not good enough for human consumption. I also grabbed them some hay. They eat like every eight minutes or something like that. Maybe it’s pooping. Or maybe that’s geese. I stared at them and it may have been the wine thinking, but I got to talking. Did I drive to Wichita to rescue these overly conversational, constantly popping guinea pigs? Or have these guinea pigs rescued me?

Despite my second glass of wine which promotes even more truthful transparent thinking, it’s pretty clear. I rescued the guinea pigs. For my seven year old boys. Not a lot has changed in the past four months for me. Yeah. Yeah. What a selfish jerk, right? I talk with them, change their cage but they just constantly “eep. eep. eeeep” for carrots which I was told I should go easy on giving them. I think they may be addicts. They have too much sugar, according to the humane society highly-knowledgeable volunteer. I really don’t want diabetic guineas. Seems complicated.  I would have to give them to one of my nursing friends. (uh. hem. Lori) I buy them cilantro because a woman at work told me they just love cilantro. Love it. My husband gets a little bummed that I don’t have big Mexican food making plans for the cilantro most days.

“Did you buy the cilantro for the guinea pigs?”

Yep. Again. And the carrots too. But the kids can have some of those if they want. With ranch, of course. Homemade. You know, put the Hidden valley packet in the sour cream. It’s pretty complicated business.

I guess I won’t be able to submit my rescue story to this #mutualrescue organization. I couldn’t do it in a truthful way. I do think our guinea pigs have a much better life. I do think my boys learned about a whole other world that exists in an animal shelter. There were numerous other guinea pigs that we couldn’t adopt from the humane society. We wanted a pair. The others were all fighting each other, biting each other and having to be separated. Maybe they were tired of people staring at them as they waited to adopt a dog or a cat. Perhaps they took it out on each other. Not our guinea pig brothers. They’re alright. Minus their carrot addiction, which I do take full responsiblity for.

But they haven’t rescued me. Or us. Not yet. We’re still holding onto the hope though.

Although in a weak moment to calm my boys’ fears of a robber entering the house while we’re all asleep, I said, “there’s no way that the guinea pigs wouldn’t let us know.” Caged little motion detectors. They alerted the tooth fairy a few weeks ago. I heard her fall into the drum set. Then, the guinea pigs went nutso. Maybe they just don’t like fairies that don’t bring carrots. The tooth fairy should know this, right?

So, it’s not a mutual rescue. But they live 5-7 years. They were a year and a half when we adopted them. There’s still time.


*if you do have a #mutualrescue story or you need to cry, here’s the video I referenced.