Thursday, June 13, 2013

An Unpleasant Encounter

Milton and I enjoy taking walks in the early evening when the sun is finally beginning to wane.  Last night we left here at about 8:00P.M., and we began our usually two-mile loop.  We go up one side of the street, sniffing about, and we return down the other side because we need to check that out too. 

Now, Jeff and I might have created a nasty habit (I don't think so.), but during our early morning jogs throughout the school year, we were always faced with a reoccurring dilemma.  Whenever Milton went potty, we would bag it up, and then run with it for about three miles due to a dearth of public trashcans.  This was unpleasant, as you can imagine.  So instead, we began placing this stinky bundle on the corner of the sidewalk to pick up when we looped back around.  A small plastic bag sitting out of the way, to me, does not seem like too much of an inconvenience to anyone, especially if it is not directly situated on someone's property.  Gasp, shake your head, and think what you may, but we are responsible adults, and we always circle back to pick up what is rightfully ours to dispose of in a trash receptacle.

Getting back to my original story, last night Milt and I were enjoying our evening stroll and, most importantly, minding our own business.  Milton began heavy sniffing on the edge of someone's yard, and he proceeded to potty.  As Milton's Momma, I immediately untied the waste bag, that we always carry on Milton's leash, and I scooped up his poop.  As this occurred in the first few minutes of our walk, I neatly tied up the bag and carefully placed it directly under a stop sign at the end of that street.  I checked the street name, to mark our spot, and I knew we would be back in about 20 minutes to pick up the bag and take it home.

Milt and I continued about our merry way when I was spooked by a jogger, in his late 40s, huffing and puffing along on our left.  This is the dialogue that ensued:

Disgruntled jogger:  "That was a very unneighborly thing you did back there with your poop bag."

Incredulous me:  "We walk this route daily, and we are circling right back to pick it up.  Do you expect me to carry it for the entire walk?"

Disgruntled jogger:  <Grunts.>  Proceeds to continue jogging.

At my yoga class, we always discuss life issues, including energy.  Well, my positive energy collided with that man's negative energy resulting in a very unpleasant remainder of our walk.  How dare he intrude upon my life with his snide remark.  Nasty rebuttals, that I wish I had said, began to circulate in my head, like, "From the looks of you, I obviously walk this route a lot more than you jog it," or "I would never comment on your painstakingly slow pace, so don't comment on my dog etiquette."  My main point of contention is if this man thought I left the bag there, with no intention of ever picking it up again, why would I have even bothered to scoop up Milt's waste?  Instead I would have just left it smoldering on the grass...


Favorite spot

I concede.  Perhaps our habit could be interpreted as rude.  I see it as savvy especially if you are walking or running multiple miles, carrying a noxious bag of excrement is a bit bothersome.  Right or wrong -- the take-away from this story is I let that jogger's negative energy run all over me; I had an awful lot of trouble shaking it off.  For next time that anything rattles me, I need to refocus and realign my thoughts.  The person affected the most in a troublesome situation is the one who harbors the ill feelings instead of breathing and letting go.

The funny part is Milton's simple, natural action induced that spiteful comment, and I don't think he was bothered in the slightest.


  1. kinda creepy that he chased you down to tell you that. we always threw the poop bag away in a neighbor's trash bin. i figured they wouldn't mind that vs. leaving poop in their yard. saves us from having to carry the bag with us.

  2. Oh I feel ya, it would have bother me just as much. More maybe, I would have stalked the huffing jogger and made it my mission to tell him to cut back on his carbs. Maybe, if this happens again, you can print a few business cards with a sign saying "I'll be back to pick up my poop, please don't take it home with you." or something funny. That way next time you can respond with "I guess you didn't read my note, Fatboy, didja?"