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Pooper Scooper

Welcome to My Green Vermont - A Blog by Eulalia Benejam Cobb.
By Eulalia Benejam Cobb

At the pet store yesterday I purchased: 1. a bag of high-end super-digestible dog food, and 2. a pooper scooper. The woman who rang me up did not respond to my joke about the relationship between the two items.

Until now, I have resisted scooping poop. I mean, we live in the country–our house has fields before it and woods behind it, eighteen acres of potential dog bathroom space. In this day and age, however, even in the country we can\’t allow our dogs to roam freely, to kill a neighbor\’s chickens or get mauled by coyotes or, most likely, get killed by a car.

We have put an invisible fence around our backyard. I regard this fence more as a deterrent than an impregnable boundary. If a deer came close (which for some reason it never has), I\’m almost sure our dogs would opt for the pleasure of chasing it despite the sting of the fence. Therefore, I never leave the dogs out unsupervised for more than a few minutes–the time it takes to relieve themselves.

However, now that I have three dogs, and especially since Our Forester has cleaned up the woods so nicely, I\’m having to change my irresponsible attitude towards dog poop. I\’m going to have to scoop. Hence my purchase of highly digestible, expensive kibble which, combined with my home-cooked melange, will, I hope, reduce the matter to be scooped to an absolute minimum.

Still, I am not looking forward to the job. I have resisted it for years, but the time has come for me to join the ranks of responsible 21st-century dog owners. The time has come for me to hold my head high, think of England, and scoop poop.

6 Responses

  1. Are you thinking of England from your Spanish heritage perspective or your adopted American roots? Both think \”of England\” probably the same way.

  2. mrb, actually, I was thinking of the advice given (perhaps only in English novels) to married women who don't enjoy sex, to \”lie back and think of England.\”Dona, ah well, poop is poop, and the only thing that makes it tolerable is the love we feel for the pooper.

  3. When I was about 10 and didn't want to clean the cat box, you told me, \”Just keep reminding yourself, 'I'm making this clean!'\” instead of focusing on how filthy & gross it was. It worked (for the next couple days, at least) and taught me a powerful lesson about how my mindset could alter the nature of an experience. And that's the story of how I became a cognitive therapist. So try that. And then on the behavioral side, don't scoop poop like you cook (spending an entire day doing it in massive batches). One pile per dog per day! (like you need instruction on how to scoop poop…)

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