A Poo in the Hand

As mentioned before in this blog, I don’t like dogs. No, wait…actually, I hate them. If the Koreans want to eat the little buggers, then good luck to them. I can even suggest some recipes.

Today – me, on way to work, crossing snow-covered football field on narrow track in snow. What do I find in the middle of the track that everybody from my building has to take every day? A dog shit. A big fat steaming turd in the middle of the freshly fallen snow.

Luckily, I had some shit-bags in my bag. Since my last encounter with a shit-machine owner – who claimed to be unable to pick up her little darling’s business because she did not have a bag handy – I have started carrying a few around with me. So I stuck my hand in the bag, scraped the turd off the ground and popped it in the garbage.

Note: nobody else in Sweden would even consider doing something like this.

First: because everything is always somebody else’s job

Second: because Swedes are hideously afraid of dirty things

Luckily I grew up on a farm where everything was always everybody’s job, and where you were dirty and covered in shit about 50% of the time. Which explains, perhaps, why I don’t have any allergies, or asthma and very rarely get sick while my clean, shit-free and centrally-heated Swedish colleagues are home in bed with the sniffles about half of their working life.

Or maybe I just have super-powers.

/ paddy (better know as Dogblaster)

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2 thoughts on “A Poo in the Hand

  1. Anonymous: Oh well done, you’ve really put me down there. Nice one – a well-constructed argument delivered with real panache. Very fine job indeed. Is everybody at Loreto College as eloquent as you, or is it just the dog owners?

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