Snow can be a wonderful thing for a dog owner. Especially so for the owner of a Labrador Retriever, or any larger breed that shits look more like the logs […]
Snow can be a wonderful thing for a dog owner. Especially so for the owner of a Labrador Retriever, or any larger breed that shits look more like the logs from immature trees than the average poop. Yes, aside from the joy of seeing your lab romp through a new snowfall ears flapping and tongue lolling, snow also represents the perfect poop concealer.
Also, no to be too graphic or disgusting, but frozen shit doesn’t smell it just lays there until spring.
I walk my dog down the alleys that we have running throughout Sandpoint. I bring a Wal-Mart bag during winter for looks only really. (Note: if you live in Sandpoint on the block bordered by Lake St./4th Ave./Superior St. and Euclid Ave, I am only saying this in jest- I pick up every pile.)
When my dog then takes one of his epic shits, I first look around – very casually. Is anyone having coffee in their backyard facing kitchen? Walking out to their car? If the answer is no, I then morph into a cat, quickly using my snow-booted foot to cover the offending pile with snow.
The bad thing though is that the dog doesn’t always take his dumps on other people’s property. And I can’t be everywhere at once. So more often than not, Brisket the one-eyed, ten thousand-dollar dog takes his shits in our backyard. Or the driveway if it is snow covered. Normally though he is too classy to poop on cement. (This is the negative of the snow concealing positive.)
Over the span of a 14-month Sandpoint winter, you can probably imagine that- no pun intended– things pile up.
So it became necessary to institute Sandpoint Poop Day. The actual date varies. It is usually around April, when most of the snow has melted and no more real snowfall mounts threaten. Then, trusty plastic grocery bags in hand, my sons are banished outside to scoop up a winter’s worth of dogshit.
It is only fair as those little bastards- and I say that with love- contribute absolutely nothing to the dogs existence, except perhaps deigning to pet him when they look up from their phones.
They shoulder the burden much better than they used to. Oh yes, when they were younger they did not like this chore one little bit. So much so that, being the Dad I always dreamed of being, I would open the back screened door when they were right in the middle of it. I would then, in my best stage voice recite a borrowed line from the movie “Cider House Rules.” Michael Caine would wish those little orphans goodnight with it. I modified it for my use:
“Good Job you Princes of Sandpoint! You Kings of Poop!”
(They were too small to say Kings of Shit, although honestly that sounds way better.)
Looking back, I’m not sure, but I am fairly certain they are not amused. ( they feel this way about the joke I told each of them their entire childhoods whenever they were upset or pouting.
Them: Scowling or Crying.
Me: Did I ever tell you the one about the Horse that walks into the bar? Bartender says, “why the long face?”
Them: Despite their willpower they broke into a very unwilling smile.
I enjoyed this immensely. As they grew up, I literally only had to look at them and they saw that joke dwelling in my corneas. Drove them crazy.
That is the end of this happy little story. You might wonder though, how much crap can a 120 pound Labrador produce over the winter?
And I will tell you. A lot.
One year the boys had the bright idea to weigh their bags. So, they hauled the poorly used scale from our bathroom down to the driveway. They even had a contest to see who scooped the most.
I forget who won, but the total was more than who is as big as a small child: 25 Pounds!