MR WRONG: Dogging my steps
Indignity Vol. 4, No. 185
COLUMN DEP’T.
MR WRONG: Why Are You So Bad at Walkies?
I DO NOT have a relationship with and/or otherwise contract with and/or employ a dog-type Animal Companion because I view Canines as a major responsibility, not unlike a human child, in that you, as the Responsible Party, need to attend to the Major Biological Functions on a regular, relentless schedule, come sunup or sundown, you are in charge of a dependent being who needs to take a dump. With the cute little Human babies, it’s diaper duty, and with the Canine Dependents, you got the daily Walkies.
I am a busy person! The last thing I wanna have on my schedule is taking a dog out so it can move its bowels like, a couple-three times a day, right? Some people who have dogs in their lives have a yard, and they let the animal go outside on its own and crap all over the place, and then maybe every couple-few days, they go out and try and scoop up the poops. I used to have a next-door neighbor who took this approach to Fecal Management with their family dog, and on many a beautiful hot summer day, as I lounged in my swimming pool, attempting to enjoy Life and Leisure, I was treated to the aroma of sun-roasted dogshit, wafting over my fence. There is no wall to be built big enough to keep broiling dog-doo from asserting itself.
The alternative for responsible dog-walkers is the Walk, Squat, and Stoop. Walk the dog, Fido squats, dog-walker stoops to conquer whatever has been evacuated from the pooch’s crude but effective digestive canal. The collateral damage, inflicted upon the dog-havers and non-dog-fanciers alike, is all those plastic bags full of shit, dropped off at the nearest public trash receptacle, typically brimming with tidily-bagged waste-product. You can’t expect the dog-walker to carry a bag of shit all the way back to their own home and put it in their trash can, eh?
Anyway, yeah, water is wet, dogs shit, they gotta get out and Doo-Doo their thing, so the dog-walkers are out there, and they are, without fail, in my fucking way. I am out there on the daily, minding my own business, getting my steps in to compensate for sitting on my ass all day doing stuff like pooping out the Mr. Wrong column (no plastic bag can hold it), so I need to exercise, get that blood pressure up, in a healthy way, and there’s always somebody out there with their mutt, and it’s like the first fucking time some of ’em ever walked one and had to adjust for the presence of other people on the sidewalk. You are in charge of the dog! Otherwise the dog thinks it’s in charge of you! The dog is a pack animal, there’s a pecking order and stuff! You must lead this animal and ensure that it travels smoothly through the genpop! Otherwise it will try and start organizing its own pack, and herding passersby such as myself into their corral! A healthy relationship with this intelligent (most of ’em) and highly social animal is built on fundamentals of order, reward, and cooperation!
The other day, I am out there, for my stroll, and I’m approaching a dog-walker and their charge, headed toward me, and my left-hand side of the sidewalk is blocked by some construction stuff. Instead of moving over to my right, to a generous expanse of grass embankment between the sidewalk and the road with their animal, I get this whole martyr big-sigh routine. They make a big deal out of having to stop, hold the dog in place, and give me a dirty look as I pass.
How hard is this? Keep your dang dog away from anybody you encounter unless you know them! You don’t know if somebody has a morbid terror-fear of dogs, or is allergic or whatever. Plus, I have lost track of how many times some oblivious dog-walker has allowed their dog to try and climb up on me, Jesus H. Schnauzer! This cannot be the first time your poorly controlled animal has done this to somebody! You’re not sorry, don’t say you’re sorry, you are more poorly trained than the unfortunate creature in your control! You are responsible for adjusting your path for someone coming toward you on the sidewalk! A wide berth! Also, this means you, as the dog-walker, always position yourself so that you are in between the oncoming pedestrian and your poop-ass pup! You are the aberration! I haz cat! Thank you.
The MR. WRONG COLUMN is a general-interest column appearing weekly. No refunds. Write Wrong: wrongcolumn@gmail.com.
WEATHER REVIEWS
New York City, October 23, 2024
★★★ The oven baking breakfast joined with the humidity to make the apartment stifling before the daylight had even taken hold outside. The mildness outdoors had a new damp coolness overlaid on it, and the cloudless sky was slightly muted by haze. A corridor of blue showed between the faces of the buildings and the flat inner sides of the outward-reaching street trees. During the walk to get an iced coffee, a cloud formation appeared overhead—a translucent blob, whiter and thicker at its scalloped edges, like watery spilled milk or a breath of cigarette smoke. It was moving north fast, evolving as it went, into something like marble veins or stretched-out batting. Behind it, well apart, came another one, wobbly and alien. In late afternoon, the light was lush and the air was sweaty, on the verge of clamminess. Down in the school basement auditorium, watching slides about the winter trip, parents swatted in vain at an aggressive mosquito.
EASY LISTENING DEP'T.
HERE IS TODAY'S Indignity Morning Podcast.
Tom Scocca
Click on this box to find the Indignity Morning Podcast archive.
TOM SCOCCA
SANDWICH RECIPES DEP'T.
WE ARE DELIGHTED to again present instructions in aid of the assembly of a sandwich selected from 'Please, M'm, The Butcher!': A Complete Guide To Catering For The Housewife Of Moderate Means, With Menus Of All Meals For A Year, Numerous Recipes, And Fifty-Two Additional Menus Of Dinners Without Meat, by Beatrice Guarracino, published in 1903, and now in the Public Domain and available at archive.org for the delectation of all.
Gruyère Sandwiches
Gruyère Cheese.
Pepper.
Salt.
Watercress.
New Brown Bread.
Butter.
French Mustard.
Butter and cut the Bread in very thin slices, form into sandwiches with very thin slices of the Cheese seasoned with Pepper, Salt and a little French Mustard between. Shape like little cutlets and serve on a centre of Watercress.
If you decide to prepare and attempt to enjoy a sandwich inspired by this offering, be sure to send a picture to indignity@indignity.net.
MARKETING DEP'T.
We are down to the last 14 copies of the second printing of 19 Folktales, still available for gift-giving and personal perusal! The nights are getting chilly and longer, but the stories are each concise enough to read before your bedtime tea cools off.
