Pooped

Haven't been able to walk Max with the Petite Filet gone, but when I had started to last week it was obvious that my fellow neighbors don't pick up their dogs' poo. I think some may think it's OK not to pick it up if it's on the street or on public rather than private property.

I admit, I used to think that way. But now I am armed with at least one bag so that when he goes – no matter where – I do my duty after he does his doodie. It's not pleasant, it's not fun, but it's the right thing to do. I'm now a committed scooper.

There are also some yards littered with dog poo. They stink and look terrible. Because of one too many shoe-in-poo incidents in the past at my house, I also do my best to keep the back yard clean.

None of this makes me truly happy. Neither does the fact the new flooring and furniture we've worked hard for is now covered in dog. Yes, we saved Max from near death at the shelter. I'm thinking maybe it was only to find him a better home (one that isn't ours). Much of my sentiment is coming from the fact I'm having to care for him along with everything else, and the dog wasn't my idea in the first place. Me and the PF will be discussing it after she gets back Friday afternoon.

At least if we lived in San Francisco, Max's poo would be worth something to someone else. They could pick it up instead of me. Or maybe, the company could come to Fort Worth and clean up the crap from my neighborhood. Then everybody would win!