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)