The Poo Incident
To forewarn you, I already know I am a bad person, so don’t comment. Can you comment? Is this an email? Hello?
Arg.
So, today I had to take my dog to the vet. It was a fairly impromtu thing because he was stung by a wasp (or so the vet imagines) and his face swelled up really big. It was a mini-emergency. Anyway, he’s fine, stop worrying. Stupid. Whateva.
After the vet (which, I forgot to mention, is in Sandymount, a small village within Dublin city just near the seaside of Dublin bay. For those who don’t know.) I decide, because it’s a beautiful morning for a change, the poor guy deserves a nice relaxing walk along the sea front to forget about the trauma just endured. So off we go.
As soon as we hit the grassy patch between the road and the beach he begins to squat. I think “Oh jesus, here we go…” and look around to see if anyone’s watching or coming. Nobody. Excellent. A victimless crime (although I’m still pretty certain it’s NOT a crime…yet anyway! Although fines are a possibility possibly…) And we walk on, not a care in the world! Then I get a txt from my good friend Jack, regarding tennis in the afternoon. Naturally I delve into the depths of txt in reply, unaware of the outside world. The world that is my dog pooing, AGAIN(!), BENEATH a sign saying “Pick up after your dog please”. Of course, as only Sandymount inhabitants -stuck up and proud- would, two middle-aged ladies make a bee-line towards me, plucking out headphones and stopping furiously.
‘I HOPE YOU’RE GOING TO PICK THAT UP!?”
“THAT’S DISGUSTING!”
Now, I don’t bring plastic bags with me everywhere I go IN CASE I have to pick up a dog turd. And nor should you, reader, unless you have some serious social problems. Some things just can’t be preempted. I look down and Bilko is practically smiling back up at me, grinning with malevolence after everything I’ve done for him.
“I’m sorry I don’t have a bag I jus-“
“WELL I THINK YOU HAD BETTER GET ONE! THERE ARE SIGNS EVERYWHERE, YOU KNOW THAT!
“Nono, sorry I don’t even live around here”
“OH YOU DON’T EVEN LIVE AROUND HERE, EH!?” sarcastically…
“WELL ARE YOU GOING TO PICK IT UP!?
“Well…no… I can’t, I haven’t got anything”
“YOU’RE A DISGRACE! HOW CAN Y”-
“You don’t need to shout, I’m right beside you! I have nothing to pick it up with, EVEN if I wanted to now! OK!??
“IT’S PEOPLE LIKE YOU DEFACING THIS EARTH!”
She goes on to mention her kids and how they do well to pick up after her dog and how people should do better for a community. How I should do better for a community. For her community.
At this stage I was pretty pissed off. I mean, to think that TWO women would gang up on me so readily, when they hadn’t even witnessed me walking off in the first place! So I decided to do so as they were talking. Not embarrassedly, but defiantly! Screw them and their stupid facelift mentallity. Keep Ireland beautiful. I have news for you. Poo ON GRASS is not litter. It is bio-degradable. It is not ANY worry to nature or the future of living as we know it. The absolute WORST case scenario is that someone steps in it. And yes, that may be unpleasant, but not moreso than picking it up with BARE HANDS!
As I walk away I don’t feel guilty. I think maybe I should. But I don’t.
Two hundred meters down the road, one of the women drives past me, rolling down her window and repeating “DON’T LIVE AROUND HERE, NO!?”, again sarcastically.
She said I was damaging. She said I was disgusting.
Her car is a BMW 5.40i, emmitting more than 250 g/km CO2, amongst the highest emitting and most damaging cars to the earth you can buy. And she doesn’t even know.
And she said I was disgusting.
Poo is disgusting.
