What matters is what comes out at the back

What matters is what comes out at the back

The other day I suddenly had to stop on one of our fresh air laps. At some distance there was a scene that fascinated me and on the one hand I didn’t want to miss anything, on the other hand I didn’t want to be exposed as a gawker, which would certainly happen if I walked on. A woman with a medium-sized dog had reached into her pocket and brought out two poop bags. She had awkwardly turned both of them into each other, so that a double-walled model was created. Then she reached into her pocket again and took out a large, green rubber glove. She pulled it onto her right hand, slipped it into the no longer sensitive double bag, bent down and now apparently tried to collect a heap of dogs. Since she tried to keep as far away as possible from what was happening, the matter turned out to be complex. Panini got restless on our leash and so I went on. (I occasionally have the feeling that the animal believes that it is on a leash and so it is probably “our” leash). What may have induced the woman to take such precautionary measures? A dog poo allergy? Had the dog eaten plutonium? Or was she just a particularly distinctive specimen of the “yuckling” category?

That is unworthy!

When I thought about sharing my everyday life, home and bank account with a dog, there was a mixed response from my acquaintance. Roughly speaking, the reactions varied between “Hurray!” And “Oa, no, in the city you always have to pick up the piles …”, a decision criterion that ranked 736 for me. Then there are only considerations like: “You have to buy a bowl!” Or “And what if the dog burps?” Over time, I have found that the pile thing plays an important role for a surprising number of people. Men in particular tend to feel humiliated when asked as a human toilet flush. In fact, it doesn’t seem to be about disgust, but rather about having to perform unworthy activities as a senior in a stooped position. If the natural ranking had persisted, the animal would actually have to clean the sanitary facilities of humans, not the other way around. While most cat owners find it perfectly natural to be servants of their animals, non-animal owners find it difficult to wash the feet of a doggy, i.e. inferior being, in the biblical sense. The dog has no advantages whatsoever from collecting – but other people who are spared from the legacies. But service to the community also obviously contradicts the self-image of many people, as everyone can see every day.

No shit!

It would be difficult to convey to you that it is easy to develop a neutral, even extremely friendly relationship with what leaves the dog every morning. Nothing gives me such reliable information about the invisible part of a dog’s health. After all, internal organs do not hobble. I can make sure that the dog meals that I have put together are tolerable and that whatever remains undigested. I can immediately see if something is wrong, know how much bone is appropriate and whether I can allow the animal to nibble on the beets in the field. I am relieved to notice that the candy wrapper that I picked up has found its way out completely but without the previous contents. Anyone who has ever had a dog with severe diarrhea understands how happy a well-designed, solid pile can make a person. How else can I find out in the shortest possible time whether or not what is essential in the animal works? Should I drink more or a worm test is due, whether the pancreas is on its toes and I can continue to give the joint tablets? I am grateful for the proof of health that was delivered on the meadow. If the animal goes out into open fields more often in a row or if another person goes for a walk, I get restless because I don’t have the obvious check.

Not my business?

And that’s also true: MY dog’s output isn’t just any one. What I put in a bowl myself before has wandered through the body of my beloved animal and what was not needed is now coming to light. How could I be disgusted by that? Picking up strange (cold!) Heaps, however, is still uh, I still do it occasionally. All of the advantages listed above are missing. All that remains is the service to the community and the reputation of the dog owner collective. The bottom line is that that’s not all that small. Or to paraphrase Helmut Kohl, who owned a number of dogs in the course of his life: What matters is what comes out at the back.

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