A Cold Bag Of Dog Shit

I was out walking Buster this morning and he stopped to do what he is supposed to do when we go out for a walk. I always carry a couple of bags for occasions such as this. Two bags in case the one springs a leak. I used to go out with girls that would bring two paper bags, one for me and the other for themselves, just in case my bag happened to fall off.

It is just right to “stoop and scoop”, or in the case of a plastic bag, “pinch and flinch”, because it shouldn’t be anyone else’s problem but yours. Besides, this way if you don’t like what someone is doing you have something to throw.

I never know where to look when Buster is taking care of his business; it really isn’t a guy thing to watch. I guess it isn’t a gal thing either, but hey, you never know what goes on in the LADIES ROOM. So I usually stand there pretending to be fascinated by a fence post or try to see pictures that the clouds make. Generally when I look they resemble large piles of white crap and I get uncomfortable thinking that I might be watching angels pinching and flinching.

Now today Buster decides to wait until we are beside a bus stop and of course the bus not only comes, but stops and for some reason just sits there. Buster finishes and now I have to “pinch and flinch” which, having had a lot of practice, I have it down to a fine art. Not this time of course! Its consistency is a cross between porridge and pudding; also it is more or less the same colour. This normally doesn’t bother me, but today I have an audience. I guess it is kind of like performance art, no one really understands it but it can be quite amusing.

Normally I would be a little uncomfortable, but not today. I stoop down and using my plastic coated fingers as a comb I look up at the people in the bus and suddenly I am feeling sorry for them. They should be smiling at me, either in sympathy or outright meanness. Instead they are looking like the zombies in “The Land of The Dead”. None of them are looking at each other, none of them are smiling, none seem to be reading, and none seem to be focusing on anything at all. I feel like waving my shit covered bag and saying “Hey, it could be worse. You could be holding a large bag of warm dog shit!”

The bus pulled away and Buster and I went our merry way, him smelling all the other dogs that had ever walked in this direction and myself thinking about what it is that makes riding the bus such a mind numbing experience. Transit is meant to convey not entertain or enlighten and when you think about it, riding the bus is the emotional equivalent of a cold bag of dog shit.

PS. I was having problems with the comments area of this blog, but I think it is fixed now. I welcome any comments. Well, not the "YOU SUCK" ones, but if that is how you feel, well...YOU SUCK!