It's the little things, you know, that will drive you crazy. Big things, I can set my feet, and confront. But the little things can gnaw at you and before you know it, you are whipped.
Take, for example, dog poop. Or, to be more precise, owners who do not clean up dog poop.
I live in an apartment complex--not acres and acres of land where dogs are free to "go" where they will. Apartment complex grounds have limited green space--green space I would prefer not to see filled with "brown" matter. I am trying to be as delicate as I can here, and I do realize that one has to stoop pretty low to have a burning desire to discuss this subject. And yet here it is.
I pick up after my dog Duncan. I walk him half a dozen times a day, ever grateful that as he gets older, he can go longer with out "going." So every day, six times a day, we make the huge block of our complex as he prepares to "do his job." Almost invariably, he is moved unto action on the final quarter of our lap--which happens to be the absolute farthest from a "dog poo station." Our complex has eleven stations, but none on the last leg of our walk. What this means is that I have to backtrack and locate a recepticle. It may be 5:00 am, pouring rain, 100 degrees, midnight--I may not have had a drop of coffee--but I pick up and then dispose properly.
Why?
Because picking up after one's dog is one of those existential questions for which one does not ask why.
Here are places where I have seen undisposed of piles: the sidewalk, parking spaces, flowerbeds, the leasing office doorway, in front of open windows, playground, picnic area, mailbox kiosk entry, sidewalk, sidewalk, sidewalk. Lately, I have developed a bad attitude as I pass my fellow dog walkers. I see people walking a matched set of dogs bigger than small ponies (yes, they live in very small, enclosed spaces). I see people walk chihuahuas and not pick up--and I know what they're thinking: "hey, it's a chihuahua--it's REALLY small poop." And yes, occasionally, I am THAT lady--I have discussions with the yard guy about people who don't pick up after their dog. I don't want to be that lady.
I am a pretty busy person. I don't like that I think about this. I don't like that I can't enjoy the sunshine and the walk, or that I can't take time for contemplation during the fifteen or so minutes it takes to walk Duncan. I'm going to consider the whole situation a challenge to practice serenity and--yes, forgiveness. I will let you know how it goes.
More on this later.
Take, for example, dog poop. Or, to be more precise, owners who do not clean up dog poop.
I live in an apartment complex--not acres and acres of land where dogs are free to "go" where they will. Apartment complex grounds have limited green space--green space I would prefer not to see filled with "brown" matter. I am trying to be as delicate as I can here, and I do realize that one has to stoop pretty low to have a burning desire to discuss this subject. And yet here it is.
I pick up after my dog Duncan. I walk him half a dozen times a day, ever grateful that as he gets older, he can go longer with out "going." So every day, six times a day, we make the huge block of our complex as he prepares to "do his job." Almost invariably, he is moved unto action on the final quarter of our lap--which happens to be the absolute farthest from a "dog poo station." Our complex has eleven stations, but none on the last leg of our walk. What this means is that I have to backtrack and locate a recepticle. It may be 5:00 am, pouring rain, 100 degrees, midnight--I may not have had a drop of coffee--but I pick up and then dispose properly.
Why?
Because picking up after one's dog is one of those existential questions for which one does not ask why.
Here are places where I have seen undisposed of piles: the sidewalk, parking spaces, flowerbeds, the leasing office doorway, in front of open windows, playground, picnic area, mailbox kiosk entry, sidewalk, sidewalk, sidewalk. Lately, I have developed a bad attitude as I pass my fellow dog walkers. I see people walking a matched set of dogs bigger than small ponies (yes, they live in very small, enclosed spaces). I see people walk chihuahuas and not pick up--and I know what they're thinking: "hey, it's a chihuahua--it's REALLY small poop." And yes, occasionally, I am THAT lady--I have discussions with the yard guy about people who don't pick up after their dog. I don't want to be that lady.
I am a pretty busy person. I don't like that I think about this. I don't like that I can't enjoy the sunshine and the walk, or that I can't take time for contemplation during the fifteen or so minutes it takes to walk Duncan. I'm going to consider the whole situation a challenge to practice serenity and--yes, forgiveness. I will let you know how it goes.
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