Most dogs are fairly easy to predict.
Normal dogs, as I call them, do normal dog things. Murphy the Wonder Dog is no ordinary hound.
No, he does not have any super powers, although he does have a high-pitched bark that can make your ears bleed, but other than that he is just a plain, ol’ little brown dog – with one exception.
When most people walk their dog they can expect the mutt to ‘do his businesses once and be done.
Most dogs anyway, but not Murphy the Wonder Dog. It is extremely rare to take Murph the Surf for a walk when he doesn’t ‘do his business’ several times.
His record is seven. Yup, that’s right. This tiny little brown dog made a stinky seven times on a 30-minute walk.
It is annoying and just plain ignorant when people do not clean up after their dog so I must do so after my own or I would be kind of a schmuck. That means every time Murphy, um, er, ‘drops the chalupa’ I have to pick it up.
I get as much exercise bending and scooping as I do from the walk itself.
My wife finds scooping the pooping rather disgusting (like I don’t), so we have an agreement: she will hold the leash and deal with the annoying little fur ball during the walk while it is my job is to clean up after the annoying little fur ball.
There are few things fouler than the aroma of a doggie doody.
Teenagers shoes after a hard day of skateboarding is not exactly a bouquet of loveliness and if you have enough of those in the same area odds are the haz-mat alarm will go off, but I still prefer that over the aromatic essence of the dog product.
Anyway, my wife and I made the arrangement when Murphy was little and I did not know just how much time I would spend getting up close and person with recycled dog food. I thought I had the better end of the deal, but time has proved me wrong.
Before the pooches’ prolific pooping prowess was known, I admit to being caught empty handed when multiple trophies dropped.
The worst situation was during a camping trip. I was walking the dog solo as the Missus and kids were puttering around the campsite.
I carried the standard one bag as I did not yet realize the juggernaut of droppings the poop machine was able to produce.
After pulling me half way around the campground, Murphy finally found the perfect spot to ‘do his business.’ No problem, I whipped out the bag, did my scooping, deposited the processed dog food in an approved trash container and continued on my merry way.
About 10 minutes later, Murphy the Machine once again assumed the position and I watched in horror as another deposit was made – and it was bigger than the first one.
“How is that possible?” I asked in disbelief. “That weighs more than you do.”
My mind began to race: I couldn’t just leave it there; someone could get their car stuck in it. As panic began to take over my mind raced to find a solution. I was too far from our campsite to run over and get another bag.
I looked around and noticed there were several large leaves lying about: Mother Nature to the rescue. I collected a few (dozen) leaves and with the precision of a brain surgeon I carefully scooped up the matter as best I could lest I should get some on me and have to amputate my hand.
I carefully balanced the product in the leaves and once again found an appropriate trash receptacle.
I breathed a sigh of relief and felt a sense of pride coming over me for my ingenuity and determination not to leave a pile lying about.
However, out of the corner of my eye I saw Murphy once again begin to ‘assume the position.’
I pulled his leash and we ran back to the campsite as fast as we could where there were bags aplenty.