Ah, Memories

This unseasonable thaw that has melted all the snow has given me an opportunity to revisit a not-cherished childhood memory: The annual spring poop scooping.

This was a ritual from my Alaska years. We got a dog there, and in a place where it snows frequently and doesn't melt, then the dog's daily deposits just get covered over and hide there until all the snow melts.

It makes for an ugly scene in the spring.

This was not something we had to worry about at Blackrock, because the dogs went pretty far from the house for their toilet times. But here . . . well, old dog Mia is not about to venture too far off the shoveled driveway when there's two feet of snow on the ground. I can't blame her. I don't really relish the idea of a frozen bidet, either.

The end result of this, however, is dog-doo landmines all over the front of the house. So, although I don't much enjoy scooping up and discarding all those accumulated deposits, I did it today. Because you know what I enjoy even less? Cleaning dog poop out of the deep treads of winter boots.

Jack was very helpful during this process. He acted as spotter, standing guard and announcing, "One poo!" until I came over with the shovel for removal.

There were a lot of "one poos" around. But I think I managed to clear most of them. There is now a significantly reduced likelihood of poopy boots to be cleaned. So it was worth it. I guess.