The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

I went shopping this morning. Not a favorite pastime of mine, but a man has to do what a man has to do and if pushing a cart around a box store is required, count me in. Reluctantly. So with gritted teeth I cruised the fluorescent aisles with my other fellow sufferers. Oh, I KNOW some folk enjoy the pleasures of shopping, the surprise of a new sale, the shared consumerism of our neighbors. Call me Curmudgeon.

The first store I needed to hit was mercifully empty of cart-wielding maniacs this early on a Monday morning. The nice couple in front of me had a cute dog, not a service dog, just a pet mongrel they felt bad leaving in the pickup on a cold day, why not bring it in leashless and let it wander with the rest of us mutts. It immediately took a dump right in the middle of aisle # 4. Just like a walk in the park, the hound must have figured. The couple called its name, Jersey or Jerky, something like that and all three left the steaming mess behind.

Even out by me on the scofflaw South End, folks carry a little scoop bag for their critter’s leavings, just a neighborly gesture in these gentrified times. At my park I caretake a few folks understand the ‘poop bag’ concept — they’ll bag it then toss the bag onto the grass before they leave. It must be a harder concept than I figured and maybe eventually they’ll get the hang of it.

The couple in my store, I don’t think they’ll make that leap at all, ever. Someone else can clean up after their pooch, it’s not their problem, it’s not their store, it’s not anything to worry about and anyway they have shopping to do, no time for Turd Patrol. Me, I drift toward the pneumatic exit doors and out to the littered parking lot, my truck and on to the next big box. Like I said, a man has to do what some might not. But I never dreamed shopping included dodging dog doo.

Hits: 59