People are supposed to clean up after their dogs in New York, but many have their own ideas about what that means. It’s not uncommon to see newspaper lying on top of a pile of dog droppings, or a great big smear across the sidewalk, as if someone finally got tired of picking up crap and just kicked it into the gutter instead.
Today took the cake, though. Today, I was actually chased a full block down 17th street (between 7th and 8th, if you’re wondering) by a brown paper bag covered in dog doo. Apparently, someone had used it to pick up Muffy’s little droppings and then dropped the bag itself back onto the street. Awesome. Anyway, it blew up against my leg, and then pursued me, I swear to God, when I realized what it was and tried to escape.
My fellow travelers on 17th street had fun, at least. I’m sure the sight of me running at full tilt down the block, screaming, “Git away! POOP BAG! Ahh! Ahh! Git!” would be worth money. If only I’d had the foresight to charge.
7 thoughts on “Enough With the Poop”
“Git awaaaay, POOP BAG, git awaaaay…”
That’s one of my favorite folk songs.
the dog-shit in new york may be in my top 10 list of things i hate. i once wrote a song about it, but that’s not saying much… umm, just know that i too am fed up with the poop in nyc
Every fifth post seems to be about crap.
That’s because crap is integral to life. That and food. And so the cycle goes on. Also, it’s funny. I don’t care what you say, nothing is funnier that a poop joke. Especially a visual one, in which my germaphobic sister is chased down a busy city street by a poop bag with a life of its own. And if you’ve ever seen the way she reacts to a little pigeon dung on her pretty red coat, you know the entertainment value.
But just so you New Yorkers don’t think you’ve one-upped us on this one, there are a great many piles of poop out here in Frontier Land. It seems like it’s the owners of big dogs that can’t clean up their dogs’ poo. I swear, some of these turds are bigger than my dog.
From Ma Smash: Speaking of Meg’s dog, I must tell you all that my powers as a mother extend to Luke, Meg’s dog. While we were visiting, Luke and I went for a walk. Luke was sniffing at everything and managed to find one of those white styrofoam things they use to pack china. I noticed it in his mouth, leaned down, and said “Luke, what have you got in your mouth? Give that to Gramma!” This was in my best Mom-voice. The smart little guy looked at me and spit it out in my extended hand. Even my granddog is clever!
Seriously, from the sound of things, you shouldn’t leave your house without a video crew. You could retire from the harsh world of whatever kind of editing it is that you do.
Between poop lobbys and poop bags, I’m surprised you’ve managed to come back out of the shower at all.
Enough With the Poop, Indeed. Isn’t it “Weird Person on the NYC Subway” day in the Smash topic rotation?