If you have a dog, than you are a dog walker–a near axiom of the Law of Contradiction. (Unless, you keep your pet hostage in your dwelling until the ASPCA comes, rescues said “man’s best friend” and uses the video footage as B-roll for their campaign against animal cruelty with Sarah McLachlan singing “Angel” in the background.)
Dear Urban Dog Walkers:
As you are well aware, the outside world is our four-legged friendos’ urinal/squatter–all of it. Yet, we have the power of the leash. This is the code of curb your dog. And, we have the responsibility of dookie duty. This is akin to one of the 10 Commandments: Thou shalt not let shit lie.
As I’m crouching at dog’s-eye-view to pick up the smattering of Remi’s excrement that is Turd Fest 2015, I see this companion piece–this pile of desiccated shit, a pathetic attempt at camouflage amidst the fertilizer. Do I pick it up while I’m down there, because “I might as well”? A good Samaritan on shit patrol? No. Because, I don’t have Samaritan blood coursing in my veins–good or bad. Why should your negligence somehow burden me and my often misguided conscience because Remi and I went on our potty promenade later in the morn? Hm? Pick up your pet’s shit!