As I've mentioned before, I rarely walk around Langley Mill because it's, well, frankly - horrible. But last week we went over the bridge to visit friends on Thompson Street and I lost count of the piles [and trodden in splats] of poo.
I have to say that I'm not entirely convinced that dog-poo bags are the good idea they're meant to be. Some people that use them are complete t**ts and need educating on what to do with them - yes, really - because on a mere five minute walk we counted seventeen full dog-poo bags strewn around the dog-s**t hole that is Langley Mill.
Yes, it's highly unglamorous, walking along, swinging a bag full of poo until you reach the dog-poo bins or home, but it's hardly an arduous task now is it? And let's face it, carrying a bag of poo can have positive advantages - no more lippy teenagers! No, it's nothing to do with the dog, trust me, she's not scary - it's the poo.
Hmmmm, yes ... can anyone tell me why it is that on becoming a born again dog walker, I also appointed myself 'dog-crap police'?
This morning I heard myself - while out with the borrowed, mobile, hairy sideboard - bellowing across Queen Street rec at a man who was clearly NOT going to clear up after his dog. Telling him that he was not a very responsible dog owner. Not quite satisfied with that - and battling really hard to keep my mouth shut - I was then to be heard asking him if he was going to clean up his dog's mess.
By now I was practically begging myself to shut-up because I don't do confrontation. He shouted back that he didn't know his dog had crapped [a lie as he was actually watching the dog at the time], he then pretended to try to find something to clean it up with - which he didn't, he just left it on the grass for children to walk in - Ugh, disgusting man.
The hound and I decided we'd had enough fresh - cough, cough - air by now, so we stuck up our noses, wiggled our bums, and full of self-righteous indignation made our way back home ...
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