Monday, August 26, 2013

Everybody Poops in Backroads

Pardon me while I address those summer vacation caravans who pull into our little burg of Backroads and proceed to de-poop their animals on our landscaped restaurant lawns. YOU PEOPLE ARE FOUL!

Okay. I feel a teeny tiny bit better. Here's the deal. We have a Dairy Queen just off the interstate. The owners have been improving their property this summer with a new building facade, a new sign, and a new roof over their previously bare drive-thru window. They already have a nice metal-bar enclosed playground for the kids, with tables and a little covered pavilion thingy. The parents can eat inside, soaking up the air-conditioning while watching the kiddies play through the front windows. Or they can sit outside with them.

Across a strip of parking lot from the barred playground, there's a well-maintained section of grass that merges up on the stoplight and road right-of-way. Every day, while waiting in line catty-corner from the DQ in my gas station chicken store with my 44 oz. Diet Coke, I see a carload of people pull in and walk their leashed dogs on that grassy area. And by "walk," I mean stand and watch the pets poop. On the grassy area. Without even an inside-out baggie or old Walmart bag to pick up the poop for disposal. So the kiddies and their parents, enjoying almost-ice-cream or Dilly Bars or an Arctic Rush that used to be a Mr. Misty get to gaze upon piles of dog turds. Oh, and what IF those free-poopers actually scooped? Would they take their turds away, or stuff them in the DQ trash receptacle?


I mentioned it off-handedly to The Pony as we drove past. Okay. I ranted about it to The Pony. "Look at that! That's nasty! Who wants to look at dogs pooping while they're having lunch?"

"Kids. Kids love that stuff. They'd love to get ahold of them if they could escape from those bars."

"The dogs?"

"No. The piles of poop."

Kids these days. They don't know how to work up a good head of indignation.


  1. Maybe some apes could be hired to fling the poo at the dog owners. And sell tickets! Double score. btw so...did you eat ketchup on your biscuits and was grandpa right? Truth is so often stranger than fiction.

  2. I love dogs but I detest owners who refuse to pick up after their pets---or children.

  3. Some people just give dog owners a bad name.

  4. The Pony is probably right. Those little whipper-snappers would probably have a sh*t-load of fun with that dog sh*t.

  5. Well, my son is not one of those poop lovers. When he was young he was passing a football with two other little boys in our side yard. Suddenly, I heard the back door open and then slam shut loudly. I went to see my son on his knees on his bedroom floor puking. Upon investigation, he had slid into a pile of dog poo (evident on the knee of his trousers) and ground into the carpet of his bedroom floor next to a puddle of vomit. It only gets better as the fact remains that the bathroom was directly across from his room with no carpet and a toilet! He had veered to the left and not the right. I had to clean up dog shit and puke. Oh!
    This was in the 70s. Deep shag carpet in his room. One wrong turn and I had a mess.

  6. Leenie,
    Okay, it's KIDS behind bars. Not a zoo. No poop-flinging! Don't make me put in a sign.

    I did NOT eat ketchup on my biscuits and gravy. Nor did I eat salsa on my scrambled eggs. And I most certainly did not taste the pickled pigs' feet. According to Grandpa, these delicacies would have given me a thoracic shag carpet to rival that of Tom Jones.

    As of yet, I have not observed leashed children being hustled out of the car to poop on Dairy Queen's lawn. I can't speak for the inside-the-bars play area, though.

    Some people give poop a bad name.

    They would be celebratin' the defecatin'! Hopefully without a fire breaking out and a Humpty Dumpty with a melon head shoving them out of the way to make his escape.

    Well, he was playing FOOTBALL! He had the crazy legs. No good comes of running straight ahead. He faked out that toilet right proper.