Yes, I know it is Sunday once again and I am writing a blog instead of a Top 10 List. There's usually more going on over the weekend that I can write about, so I will officially change Top 10 Lists to Wednesday, when there is usually nothing to write about anyway.
Several exciting things happened over the weekend, including hearing about a friend fighting a mugger, watching two people makeout through a window, and more time with The Dork, but I'm actually going to write about the pinnacle of my weekend. Something that has been several months in the making.
Today was, "Fuck it, I've Got to Clean up the Dog Shit in the Backyard Eventually Day."
My dog shits alot. I don't know why since she's relatively small and doesn't even eat her food all the time. She'll go at least three times a day, all sizable loads, all filling the backyard with little presents that eventually will need to be cleaned up.
Now I've owned Chloe since October and I've only cleaned up her poop once before, so you can do the math. It ain't pretty. I'm surprised she hasn't boycotted going in the backyard. I sure wouldn't walk back there, and apparently the lawnmowers that I pay for through HOA feel the same way. So I've got a backyard with about 18" high grass and two turds for every square foot. Something needed to be done.
The grass needs to be cut, so I'll suck it up. Though it's my only day off from doing anything work-esque, I have to clean the poop so that they'll finally cut our grass before I start seeing VC crawling around back there and I'm forced to napalm the whole lot. Nobody benefits from that, obviously.
So I grab my trusty pooper scooper and head out back. This scooper is top of the line, has a claw end that you can attach a bag to so you can scoop the poop right into the bag for easy disposal. I used a Target bag of decent size, given the task at hand...though even it proved to be overmatched.
The next 45 minutes and two bag loads (I ain't kidding) consisted of me, leaning down using the claw to push high grass to the side so I could find the lost treasures and dispose of them. I felt like Elmer Fudd with two hands on the scooper pole slowly wading through the marsh searching for wabbits.
Let's take a step back and ponder this scene. Freaking dog. Takes a shit and then here I am having to clean it up. Note to non-dog owners...remember that you have to clean up shit, and it smells. Add insult to injury, Chloe comes out and drops a fresh one for me as I'm scooping. Then the whole rest of the day, she's trying to hump my arm while I'm sitting on the couch watching the Wizards game. Her little brain is like, "Yep, he's my bitch. I take a dump and he has to deal with it." She stood out there the whole time, walking around, mocking me. Thank god I only do this twice a year.
Though the twice a year poop clean-up does allow you to see all the stages of poop decomposition. Some of these poops had mold on them and look like balls of cotton or wool. Imagine if somewhere in some obscure country they used this poop wool and made a sweater or something out of it.
"That sweater is magnificent, what's it made off? Cashmere?"
"No, dog feces. Wonderful stuff. Takes several months to grow and be harvested."
I'm sure if I'd find it anywhere, it'd be at Abercrombie. They sell crap already.