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Cactus in Bloom

Thursday, February 25, 2016

Dog DooDoo....

I've been blogging a lot about all the dogs here.  Yeah, there are a lot of them.  I suppose most of them have homes...  more or less.  Like the big black dog that I think belongs a house or so down from us...  but every morning she's asleep on the curb.  Of course I speak to her as we pass by, but she doesn't acknowledge me.  I look at her carefully...  I can see she has conjunctivitis...  her eyes are kind of matted and I want to reach down and swab them...  even more, I'd love to take her to the vet and really do something about it.  But she's not mine.....  

I can pretty much tell which dogs are well cared for and which aren't.  That big collie-type dog...  how old is she?  She looks really old...  has really matted hair...  nobody ever cleans her up.  And that dog that has a hairless tail?  What happened?  Why is it like that?  

I remind myself that it's a different culture here....   

And when I see a pack of male dogs ganging up on a female in heat, I can only hope that somewhere down the road the owners (of the males) won't have a macho attitude about neutering a male dog.  They do here, you know.  It's like their own masculinity is at stake if they have the balls cut off their dogs.  Go figure....

Okay..  so I'm getting kinda vulgar...  but...  darn it!  Is education possible?

So....  Bill and I are going on our morning walk...  it's not a strenuous walk...  Bill has binoculars, I, my camera.....  we're mostly birding.  I REALLY want to see an Elegant Trogon before we leave.  I'm usually pretty careful...  but this morning I stepped in a big pile of dog shit.

I know...  I could call it "poop"...  I could say "doodoo"...  but...  by the time I figured out that I was carrying along about 10 pounds of extra weight on my right foot, it was so embedded into the tread of my sandals, it was just plain SHIT!

I tried to scrape it off in the way side grass...  I even found a tiny water puddle or two and stomped around in that a few times.  Three hours later we were home...  and I checked out my sandals.

Damn!  Not only was that sandal still filled with dog crap, it stunk like hell.  And you think cat shit is bad!  Okay...  I see that lots of folks actually carry little plastic bags to clean up after their dogs, but...  really?  with 50 million dogs all crapping wherever they want to, does that really work?   And... I've wondered where the heck they put those little plastic bags of dog shit anyway?

Our second walk of the day...  I hit every water puddle I can find.  Not easy when it's noon...  hotter than you can imagine and not only that, I figure the heat is just gonna make my shoe smell that much worse.  We walk the river road...  there's a place at the end to wash the sand off your legs and feet before heading back along the path.  Perfect!  I'm gonna wash my shoe!  Actually, Bill saw a barbed wire fence close by and used the spike to clean around the treads of my sandal.

Good Grief!  He did good...  I quit rolling my eyes...  washed the sand off my feet and finally slipped those sandals back on.  I really, really, really want these sandals to last 3 more weeks!  They are falling apart and now have been impacted with dog crap.  They smell like ... well, they smell like a piece of shit....  I seriously doubt if Desenex Foot Powder can resuscitate them at this point.

Maybe it's time I dragged out my Teva sandals and quit depending on these old Born ones...  but...  geez....  it's hard to give up an old favorite...  despite the aromatic aroma they have been exuding these days.

That's all for today!

14 comments:

  1. Your daily walks and blogs about the beauty of the town have been so enjoyable. I guess it was about time to get a good dose of reality. So sorry about your shoes. If you ever return, several pairs of shoes seems like the way to go. If it makes you feel any better, we've got dog shit up here too. Of course, "our shit don't stink." lol

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  2. I'm very grateful you didn't photo journal today's wanderings! LOL

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  3. Literally laughing out loud, not at your discomfiture, so much, as at the crescendo of descriptors. It could be farewell, good and faithful sandals.

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  4. I feel your pain. The RV park where we are currently workamping has a strict "If you don't pick up after your dog, you're out" rule. Yeah, right. I work landscape. I cannot begin to count the number of dog piles I have had to rake away. Sheesh. And no one has been evicted.

    Leaving here next week to begin our journey to Yellowstone where we will have jobs where we won't have to deal with dog poop. Yay!

    Safe, poop free travels!

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  5. I heard that stepping in "it" was supposed to bring you good luck. Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket? :cD

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  6. Even though I've never heard of Paul and Marti's suggestion--it's a funny one! UGH, nothing worse when out walking! I've been known to ask people if they need a bag when I've seen them walk away from their dog's leavings.

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  7. Thanks for a good laugh - I know, not so funny if it's YOU! Those sandals have been through a lot.

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  8. Sounds like you need a power washer!

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  9. I feel for you and I'd be using that language if I'd stepped in that. I know it's happened to me. I guess in England it eventually comes off our shoes on a good dose of rainy days.

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  10. Ah, the pleasures you don't anticipate.

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  12. I wish I was down there, I'd be fixing everything in sight, probably people too, but I just can't help myself. I've stepped in enough shit in my life, all kinds, literal and figurative. I know how to clean it up and I know how to make it smell even worse and then where to throw it after smell augmentation. I'm just being bad today, really bad. Sorry. Sorry about the shit on your shoes too.

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  13. I remember being in Eugene, to trap, for spay neuter, poor little teen girl kitty had waded into a big huge puddle, to try to escape all these circling big mangy tom cats. More than I could take. I was there all night catching every damn one of them. No more of that there. And once the females are pregnant, they have to try to take care of themselves and the kittens too. The horrors they go through. And yet people still won't fix their males, as if they contribute anything to the problem. Just like in the human population, single moms get all the flack, like immaculate conception occurred or something. That's why I advocate surgical solutions to world problems. Ha ha ha. Like peace. Think all these world leaders posturing and threatening isn't the same as two male cats facing off atop a fence, yowling and screaming? I'm just kidding halfway. Sort of.

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