Dog Poo Everywhere!

Look, you may think from reading this post and this post, that I’m constantly consumed by turds. Or am I simply consuming turds?

Regardless, truth be known that every single day of my life I try to escape poop, feces, doo doo, #2, shit or, as my daughter calls it, 'poo poo'. But I just can’t.

It's part of me. It's everywhere. From the office to the home - I'm destined to always be around turds in every facet of my life. Even when I run.

Let me tell you story.

Yesterday, the weather was above 50 degrees, so I thought I’d skip out of work a little early and go on a long run.

Warm days in Ohio during the month of February - like yesterday and today - are extremely rare.

'How rare?' You ask?

Well, remember that scene in The Perfect Storm when the crew of the Andrea Gail hung on for dear life as their boat was relentlessly twisted and catapulted by the angry saltwater of the mighty Atlantic Ocean?

Then, just like that, everything subsided. George Clooney, Mark Walhberg, John C. Reilly and the rest of the crew popped their heads up, took a glance out of the window and noticed the sunny skies and the calmness of the sea.

For a couple of seconds they looked around at each other and smiled thinking to themselves “Yeah, we beat this thing.” Oh, but reality quickly crashed down when they soon realized that they didn't escape the storm at all. They were in the eye of hurricane. Then, that huge giant CG wave kicked the ever-loving shit out of them.

In Ohio, that giant Perfect Storm wave represents winter and the Andrea Gail represents Ohioans in February. This freak weather is nothing but a cock tease designed to give us blue balls (pun intended) for two more months. Screw the groundhog. The Spring - as the rest of the world knows it - doesn't hit Northeast Ohio until early May.

But I digress...I pulled into the Bath Nature Preserve parking lot, tossed on a pair of shorts and running shoes, then took a quick whiz before staring my run.

I noticed a group of high school kids playing Frisbee football in the wet soccer field. A warm (gasp!) wind was blowing in from the west. And, for the first time in a long time, I was comfortable outside.

Yay!

I wasn't 1/4 mile into my run when I heard a familiar sound: SHLUMPF! I looked down and my right Asics running shoe was now a rotten shade of brown. I was so ecstatic about being outside that I forgot to look where I was running. I had just stepped into the biggest pile of dog shit you’ve ever seen.

And, judging from the various shades of brown and the size, I later surmised that it wasn’t simply one giant turd left by some Marmaduke dog - but an assembly of various dog turds from a variety of mutts.

Yay?

I cursed the owners of the foul beasts, scraped my foot in the melting snow and continued on my run.

About a mile in, I decided to give this particular run a title: Dog Poo Everywhere! (at least I assumed they were from a dog).

From big piles to small pebbles. From dark brown to light tan. Tons and tons of dog turds were strewn on the jogging trail as far as the eye could see - sort of like the fallen soldiers in Gone With The Wind or the injured kids who fell off the trampoline in that one episode of The Simpsons.

Again, I cursed the owners.

Did they not know that snow melts quicker than dog turds?

What were they thinking when they passed up the doggy poop bag dispenser at the beginning of the trail?

Is there some sort of dog shit amnesty that I'm not privy to, which states that you don’t have to pick up your dog’s crap when it’s snowing out?

In any event, I decided to turn this disastrous run into a game and imagined that I was NFL running back dodging doo doo defenders on my way to the end zone.

That's when I felt a slight pang in my intestines.

“Oh no!”

Oh yes. Just like the many dogs that pranced around the park and did their business, I suddenly had to take a crap.

I pulled a small bundle of toilet paper from my jacket pocket (Boy Scout Motto: Be Prepared) and pranced into the woods like a white-tail deer dodging a hunter’s bullet. I found a nice clear, piece of un-melted snow and proceeded to do my business.

After wiping my bum, I covered up yesterday’s dinner with a pile of snow and pulled up my shorts.

In my urgency to get back on the trail, I did a 180-degree turn and suddenly heard a familiar sound: SHLUMPF!

I looked down and my left Asics running shoe was now a rotten shade of brown.

I silently cursed myself.

Remembering Alex

Three years ago, our dog Alex started to go blind.

A quick X-ray showed that she had a brain tumor.

Less than a year later, she was totally blind.

Surprisingly, she handled herself very well. In no time at all she was walking around our house without banging her head on any furniture.

I wish I could say that I would have handled the situation with such gusto.

She loved to chase balls (the tennis and soccer variety.) So I grabbed her old soccer ball from Old Navy, cut a small hole in the ball and inserted some bells that I bought at a local pet store.

Alex had her very own jingling blind ball (patent pending).

Save slamming into a couple trees now and again, she had a blast chasing that ball.

It didn't even seem like she was blind.

Life went on. We moved. We still took her on walks. And I still kicked that raggedy old ball around.

By this time, there were no more bells in the ball, but she could still chase it by the sound of the ball rolling in the grass.

Then she had her first seizure.

The doctor said to expect more in the near future. And, if it happened, it was up to us to decide when to end her suffering.

It was early morning on June 25, 2007. Alex had three seizures in eight hours.

If you've ever seen an animal (or a human) have a seizure, there's nothing you can really do. You have to wait. And watch. And wait. Until the seizure is over.

It's freaking brutal. I can't even imagine watching a person you love go through that.

I just started a new job in Cleveland. So we decided to wait until after work to take her to the doctor.

That day would be her last day on Earth.

Around 11 a.m. I got another call, Alex had three more seizures. I called my wife-to-be and we both left work around 1 p.m. and headed for home.

It was time.

We picked up Alex and took her to the Metropolitan Vet Hospital in Copley, Ohio.

The doctor took her into the room to place a catheter in her arm. As we waited, my heart started to pound. Then the tears started to roll.

After five minutes or so, the doctor told us to come in. Alex was in the corner shaking and scared. But her tail started to wag when she heard my wife-to-be's voice. (I was an adopted father to Alex).

We had a couple minutes with her and told her goodbye. The doctor came in, explained the procedure and we both got on the floor with her.

She inserted the first shot of this green liquid. About 20 seconds passed and Alex slumped to the ground in a sleeping position.

She was still breathing. But silent. A couple seconds later, she injected another shot and checked her heartbeat.

Less than 10 seconds later, she was dead.

The doctor left. We spent about five minutes in the room with her.

I didn't think I'd be as emotional, but I was happy I was there.

They cremated her body. Her ashes are still in our garage.

We're still waiting to take the ashes to spread on one of her favorite spots...the beach at the jersey shore.

Until then, they'll remain in the garage waiting to be freed. Possibly next Spring or Summer.

Here's to you Alex.

I miss kicking that old, raggedy ball around the yard with you.