A while back I watched a movie where a Prince from the 12th century traveled through time to the present. The female he hooked up with ask him to take her little dog for a walk. While in the city park the dog took a dump. The Prince, thinking nothing of it, continued walking the dog. He was then stopped by a policeman who told him to go back and clean up after the dog. The Prince couldn’t believe he was being told to pick up dog turds. Not only was a regal Prince not going to degrade himself to such a task, he thought the whole practice to be ridiculous to begin with. When one really thinks about it, the procedure does seem, for no better word, odd. And though I understand the reasoning behind the practice, it does not mean I will put myself in the situation to do it. In short, I will not own a dog.
Back in my youth I had a dog named Worthless. He prided himself in being as obnoxious as any domesticated four legged creature could possibly be. If you read my post My Dog Worthless, then you’ll know what I’m talking about. To Worthless where ever he happened to be standing at the time was his personal toilet. And some of his dumps could put a dinosaur to shame. And sooner or later someone, whether family or not, would step in one of his impressive piles. For that reason it was my job to walk around the yard with a shovel and flip them out of the immediate area. But flipping is one thing, picking up and bagging quite another. I have no doubt that if Worthless were alive today, he would be the first dog ever seen actually laughing while I scooped up his turds and put them in a plastic bag. And I would be mortified!
For that reason, since I moved to the city, I have never owned a dog. I don’t care if its a little dog with little turds, I will not walk behind it with a baggie and napkin. We own a cat, and for good reasons. First of all, unlike dogs, cats are an independent creature that struts around with a “whatever” attitude, not caring in the least if their owner is home or not. But most importantly a cat has evolved into an animal that will actually dig a small hole, relieve itself in it, and then cover the hole again. I personally do not know of another animal that does that. And when in the house our cat uses a litter box. The remnants are immediately kitty litter coated and fumigated for disposal. That I can handle.
Every once in a while my wife brings up the suggestion that we get a small dog. But as soon as I remind her that she and she alone would be the one taking the dog on its daily walk and dump, her idea no longer sounds near as appealing. But there is another more serious reason that I refuse to get a dog. All pets eventually die. The dying of a family cat doesn’t bother me that much. It bothers me, but I get over it. But losing a dog rips me to pieces. I cussed Worthless almost on a daily basis, but I literally went into mourning when he died. So maybe that’s the real reason I won’t get another dog. But the task of picking up their turds is still a close second.