This is a long over due post, which I originally got the idea for whilst commenting on the lovely Pamela’s Something Wagging blog. (Yes, go and visit but not until you have finished here. You have to share the love!)
Now if I was a little more organised I would now be linking to the post which inspired this confession, but I’m not so just accept that it was brilliant (
most all of her posts are!) and cut me a little slack because I’m single-handedly rebuilding a house after the man of my dreams kicked me out (FYI, there is no limit on how long I can use that as an excuse for being rubbish!!)
There is no easy way to say this so I am just going to put it out there……
I suck at picking up dog poo.
Yep, I’ll say it again, I suck at picking up dog poo. Now I don’t suck as in I don’t do it. That would make me irresponsible and (in my opinion) a bit of a pregnant goldfish. More I pick it up 99.99999999% of the time but more often than not I will end up covered in the stuff. I don’t know how, and I really can’t explain why but the more I pick up the worse I get! I have taken to removing jewellery, bracelets, my coat before picking up, which always causes some confusion as this means I spend a good few minutes trying to figure out which hand I am going to use to! (We’ve all done that right? RIGHT??)
I then put bag on hand and pull the handles up my arm as far as they will go to make a sort of sleeve. Then I search the area to see if there are any stray bits on any long bits of grass (they will both only poo in long grass) and I go for it. For some unknown reason I seem to have a 50:50 success rate. If I have managed to scoop the poop I will congratulate myself and be in a good mood for the rest of the day. However if I have failed usually I will then start scanning around for something that I can wipe my hand/arm/face on. (please note, it has never actually been my face, I’m using artistic licence!)
That leads nicely to my first confession.
I was a teenager and Mity was only a few years oldand I decided that taking my dog for a walk would be a perfect first date (cheap). The date started off well enough and everything was going fine until Mity decided that he needed to do a number 2. I was a little embarrassed but kept my cool. I pulled out the poo bag, walked over to the poo…. and completely misjudged the bag angle and ended up with far more than I would have liked on my hand! I tried to wipe it off on the grass near me, but it didn’t all come off. By this time I had taken a while ‘scooping the poop’ and I was worried I would start to look weird and so I walked back to him, subtly changed sides so that he wouldn’t have to hold the ‘poo hand’ and we resumed our walk.
I spent the rest of the walk trying to remove the poo from my hand. This included (but was not limited to) me wiping my hand on any tree, bush, tall pile of grass, stone wall or anything else with an abrassive surface we walked past. When that failed I had brain wave, and whilst walking past a puddle I dropped to my knee to ‘tie’ my tied shoe and tried to wash my hand in the puddle. It worked. The poo came off…. and was replaced immediately with brown mud which I got onto my hand while drying my hand (because it would have looked weird had I had a wet hand you understand) on some nearby grass!
My second confession.
It was before work and I had taken BD for a walk. Again the poo picking hadn’t gone to plan and so after wiping on some grass nearby when I got home I washed my hand and arm in copious amounts of soap and water. Everything was going fine, until someone bought cake into the office.
The cake was lovely, it was carrot cake but without the minging nuts and plenty of topping. I was enjoying it, and just polishing off my slightly large slice, in fact I was just licking my fingers which I had managed to get covered in icing, when I looked at my hands. My heart stopped because there around the edge of my nails, just slightly under the corner was a brown smear.
I have to admit I felt sick. I also have to admit that the first thing I did was sniff it a couple of times to see what the hell it was.
Of course it turned out to be cake (i don’t know if I would have shared this it hadn’t been!) but for a split second I was panicked!!
So what about you? Do you have any dog poo confessions? Surely I’m not the only one that these things happen to…. promise I’m not the only one these things happen to!