I live in a development. A rather large one, at that. And our development has it’s own Facebook page, where residents of our little island paradise can post comments, questions, complaints, more complaints, and mostly complaints. I’ve come to expect that 99% of the things posted to the Facebook page are ultimately going to annoy me, frustrate me, or quite simply just tick me off. Posts often include things like the make and model of speeding cars, videos of landscapers rolling through stop signs, adolescents behaving badly, and so on. Today, I thought for sure I was going to be the target of one of those posts.
Of the many, many, MANY things people complain about, dog owners is one of the hottest of topics. More specifically, dog owners who don’t pick up their dog’s poo. And don’t get me wrong here, I’m not a fan of those people, either, but taking to Facebook to call them out just seems incredibly childish.
I took my dog for a run today, like I often do. And Maverick suffers from a very common runner’s issue: the trots. It never fails that at some time between mile .5 and .75, he will have to stop and drop anchor. It happens.. every…. time. And I know it’s going to happen, so me, being the responsible dog owner that I am (who also fears the Waterbury FB page) always carries a poo bag to collect his steamy sample.
Today, as anticipated, he stops at mile .6 and leaves his mark. I bagged it up like a good little development dweller, but today, you know, I just didn’t feel like running the rest of my miles carrying his soft load. We were at the end of one of the walking paths, so I decided to leave the bag where I was and pick it back up on my way back.
For the rest of the run, the only thing that went through my mind was getting home to my phone to see if I had become the target of a blast on the Waterbury FB page. I had visions of pictures of me posted, bent over, with a plastic-bag-covered-fist full of dog poo and a caption that would read something like this: “You know, it’s one thing to bag your dog’s poop, but it’s another thing to TAKE IT WITH YOU!” Or, like, something to that effect. I spent my entire run crafting my response to the Facebook comment that I was sure was waiting for me at the finish line. The response that would not only put this person in their place, but simultaneously save my good name! I was ready to drop a bomb like I was Maverick on the walking path. I had a few options in mind and they went something like this:
The Anonymous-Sarcastic Response: “You should consider yoga.”
The Not-So-Anonymous-Sarcastic Response: “It was me. And I picked it up on the way back home from my run. You need yoga in your life.”
The Mic-Drop Response: “It was me. And did you really assume that I would take the time to bag it if I wasn’t going to come back to pick it up? The fact that I was on the walking path in the woods, yet I still bagged his droppings, should have given me direct access in to the Waterbury Dog Owner’s Hall of Fame. And I was running. Do you know how hard and gross it is to run with a bag of crap in your hand? Running for me is enough of a challenge without adding the mental angst of carrying dog shit. And let’s be real, here. I’m not the fastest runner, but I make ok time. And I’m not a crazy long distance runner, either. My dog made his mark at mile .6 and I left it there while I went out and back to the bag in 2 miles. At my average pace of about 9:30/mile, the plastic bag laid along side the walking path for about 19 minutes. That’s 19 minutes that you spent taking pictures, crafting your comment, and stewing about it. Maybe those 19 minutes could have been better spent doing some yoga.”
But alas, to my surprise and delight, I did not become the target of a Waterbury whopper on Facebook. Maybe they’ll get me on trash night, when I dump the bag in the closest can. And hopefully, unlike in my race photos, I’ll be looking camera ready.
So be warned, Waterbury. I’m going to continue to leave bags between mile .5 and .75 of my runs, but set the timer. If I’m not back in about 20 minutes to pick it up, then you may take to social media. (Or call for an ambulance.)
SIDE NOTE: As I was running, I was really cracking myself up with the yoga part of my virtual come back. Reading it now, uh, not all that funny. But it was going to be included in my blast, so the yoga comment remains in the blog about the post-that-never-was.
Photo: Me and Maverick, running the mean streets of Waterbury in 2015.