When I first lived on my own, I knew there would be responsibilities that were new to me. With no roommate to lean on, the brunt of the cleaning, bill paying, and flailing through life would be placed on my shoulders. When I considered adopting a dog, I knew those responsibilities would grow even heavier.
But I was ready.
I grew up on sixty acres of land. Picking up the family dog’s poop was not part of my upbringing. If our dogs did happen to poop in the front yard, Dad would wait for it to harden and then chip it into the woods. He constantly searched for extra golf practice.
However, when life bestowed upon me a lovable mutt that I would raise as my own child, I knew what I was supposed to do. My friends had dogs. I saw the little baggies they carried around in cool contraptions hooked to their pup’s leashes. In a town like Charleston, where homes on sixty acres are not generally found, I knew that poop in hand would become something normal in my everyday life.
So why is it so fucking hard for everyone else to understand that?
Someone in my condominium complex wholeheartedly believes that if their precious dog shits upon the pine needles (in lieu of the lawn), there is no need to pick up said waste and dispose of it in a proper receptacle. Only a short piece of sidewalk separates the stairs leading up to my home from the shit-strewn wasteland in front of my downstairs neighbor’s front door. My pups tiptoe around the poop in an attempt to find a pristine spot to excrete their waste. They even turn their noses up at the foul smelling ground.
If the dogs don’t even like the poop, then we have a problem.
Yesterday, my home’s HOA was nice enough to put up a sign near the affected area. In big block letters it read, “THERE IS NO POOP FAIRY.” For a moment, I chose not to believe it. I’m not the praying type, but I knelt right down in front of that tree (first checking for poop, of course) and wished upon that damn poop fairy to deliver us from this foul-smelling menace!
The very next day, that son of a bitch pooped right in front of the tree (and the sign) and left it there.
The gauntlet was officially thrown.
I’ve thought long and hard on how to catch the evil-doer. I believe I know the culprit’s identity but I can’t imagine my neighbor wanting that much poop right outside their own door. I’ve dreamt of surveillance, night vision goggles, and a net to trap the poopmeister! I’ve daydreamed of the ‘Ah Ha!’ moment that will come when I finally catch the twatwaffle in the act!
Oh, sweet victory. It will be mine.
Until then, my life is nose plugs, eyes on the ground, and prayers to the poop fairy.
Wish me luck.
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