It’s A Doggy World

There are not many winners in the time of Corona Virus, but dog breeders seem to be amongst them. This has generated a proliferation in the extendable dog lead. The extendable dog lead, which is my enemy, is not the only thing that has proliferated. Where there are extendable dog leads there are frequently dogs attached to the other end, busy relieving themselves of their breakfast. Where once there was breakfast, there is inevitably dog poo.

Since lockdown begun the explosion of dogs and their poo has made its presence felt in ways that I never knew were possible. While cleaning up after your dog is the gold standard, I understand that even the best of dog owners get caught short.

In parts of the Balkans people hang strands of colourful fabric and ribbon to designated trees to remember their dearly departed by. These colourful expressions may not be to everyone’s taste, but they are relatively benign compared to newer customs that appear to have taken root, or should I say, taken flight.  In parts of my local walking spot, people hang dog poo in black bags from the trees and forget all about it. I wish I knew who they were, so I could return their abandoned dog poo to them.

I know I’m not alone in not seeing the poo from the trees but honestly, no one expects to be swiped in the face with Labrador poo. I’m making assumptions here, based on the statistical chances. I don’t want to sound mean. I love a Labrador as much as the next person, but there are more Labradors in the world than I remember there ever being before lockdown began.

It might not have been a Labrador but it was a big dog that eats a wet food diet or had an upset stomach.  It could have been a golden retriever or even a Great Dane. It defiantly wasn’t a Yorkshire Terrier. Whatever it was it probably wasn’t a working dog.

However clever the guide dog, or any working dog for that matter, it would seem an unlikely use of canine time, to stop for long enough to bag and suspend their own excrement from a tree, unless I am missing something here. I have not taken the particular talents of the “sniffer” dog into account, it’s true, but I don’t suppose that even they are disposed to the bag and suspend method of poo disposal.

I suppose that given the rise in popularity of hanging dog poo from trees, it was inevitable that someone was going to have to face up to it sooner or later. I only wish it had not been me.

The poo bag is designed to be tightly tied and taken home. I put the lack of knots down to user failure. That’s the person not the dog. I’d go further and say that no rural idle, no common, wood or forest is enhanced by poo bags blowing gently in the breeze or flapping about in the shrubbery.

Coming face to bag with the unintended consequences of the rise in popularity of the dog and hitherto unthought of methods of poo disposal, I cannot help but wonder if the many changes to the way we live will stand the test of time.  I’m hoping we all buy less clothes to dispose of in landfill, that the banana has finally found its true vocation in the loaf, that commuting times are a thing of the past, and that my personal commitment to daily walking remains undimmed. Poo suspended form trees is no way to live.

While dog breeders have been making a killing, the by-product of their success is killing me.

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Image is Siobhain Santry's drawing of Anna ducking away from a bag of dog poo hanging on a low tree branch.