Well, here’s a thing. As a person who is privileged to have a little dog as a companion animal (that’s the “political correctness gone mad” term for a pet), I try to be a responsible keeper of my little friend. He is microchipped, insured, vaccinated to the eyeballs, cuddled, fed, watered, walked and regularly checked over by the wonderful nursing and veterinary staff at White Cross in Walkden.

His behaviour is, what I call, sub-optimal, at times. People who don’t have to live with him might say he’s an out of control nuisance. I pity my neighbours because I know he barks and howls when I leave him. But saying that, it’s not my fault they’re at home too much to hear him. Spiteful!

When we’re out on our walks, he is a bit of an embarrassment: he barks at cyclists (his fear of them emanates from numerous episodes of him running into the wheels of passing bike, so, his fault); he barks at other dogs when he’s on his lead (my fault for not using positive reinforcement effectively); he’s a bit of a sex pest, and any off-leash walk is considered a major failure if he doesn’t manage to get his willy on at least one other dog’s face. I carry a look of apology with me wherever I go with him. In general though, he’s a good-natured little thing and his poor behavioural traits are a result of terrible training and his innate fear of life. Also, his worst behaviour comes out during the first ten minutes of our walks together, that is, the poo-brew time. Once he’s off-loaded, he relaxes and gets on merrily with his sniffing and weeing.

I always pick up his poos. Always. And so what I’ve come to notice recently here in sleepy Stoneclough fills me with disgust. I live in a post-industrial residential area that is sandwiched in the outskirts of Bolton, Salford and Bury. It’s not the most affluent area in the world, but nor is it blighted by poverty. I would assume that most people around here work, are fairly up to date with current affairs, they vote and there’s a good proportion of home ownership. These sorts of people should, in general, make fairly good citizens. So, why is it that there are dog owners who allow their animals to poo on the pavements and grassed areas and think it’s acceptable to leave it? On recent walks with the little feller, I’ve had to dodge dog poo every couple of hundred yards.

The local council’s threats to prosecute offenders are empty without enforcement. Similar to the situation with those who use mobile phones while driving – we all know it’s wrong and dangerous, but people do it a) because they’re cockrings, and b) because they know they’ll get away with it.

One of the things I’ve noticed about the poos I encounter is that they are often huge, i.e., coming from big dogs. Now, I have a little dog and I have little hands. The little dog’s productions are conveniently-sized so that I can bag them up in a, and I’m trying to be delicate here, “handful”. It seems to me that some dog owners who have larger pooches can’t handle the size of their dogs’ deposits. It could be that they’re repulsed by the notion of picking up, or their hands are too small to accommodate the massive piles of stinking shit that they then think it’s perfectly OK to leave on the pavement for the rest of us to dodge.

They are inconsiderate, lazy, knob-jockeys who, quite literally, need their faces rubbing in it.

IF you are going to take a dog under your responsibility, there are some things that you must accept:

1. Feed it
2. Water it
3. Exercise it
4. Keep it safe
5. Keep it healthy
6. Make sure others are safe from it
7. YOU WILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH ITS POO

If anybody considers any of the above to be beyond them, then they should not even for one second think about having a dog as a pet… or a child for that matter because, Jesus, you have to clothe and educate those buggers as well.

One thing that I will never comprehend is the situation whereby people bag up their dogs’ mess, then throw the bag and its contents into the bushes, or just leave it on the pavement, or even tie it to a tree or fence. Why? What possesses these morons? I’ve never seen anybody do this, I don’t know anybody who does this, but I’d really like to subject these people to in-depth psychological testing… or torture. I think torture would be good. Torture them by shoving filled poo bags in their mouths until they beg for forgiveness… or just die… on fire… in a wicker effigy surrounded by dog poo.

The vanishing
Of course, one of the perils of being a responsible dog owner is the poo bag itself. I don’t think I have on coat or jacket that doesn’t have at least one of these things in its pockets. I’m forever retrieving them from the washing machine too after I’ve washed trousers before forgetting to check the pockets beforehand. I am referring to unused poo bags of course. But even though just about every pocket-furnished item of clothing always has a poo bag in it, these things are prone to escaping at the most inconvenient moments. I don’t claim to have a 100% clean-up rate, let’s just leave it at that. This isn’t because I don’t carry the equipment with me when I’m out with the little feller, but because sometimes, when it comes to the vital moment and you search your pockets for the five bags that you absolutely know you put there before you left the house, sometimes, they’ve disappeared by the time you need to use one. It happens all the bloody time… your honour… and I often have to re-trace my steps to find the crumpled-up polythene sacks as they sit there, taunting me.

So, if those people who are puzzled by the filled bags tied to trees and fences are even more disturbed by the empty sacks that litter the pavements and verges, please take pity on the poor bastards like me who are wandering around looking for them. You have no idea of the confusion and embarrassment we are feeling.

Anyway, I’ve been reminiscing about my little chap over the past day or so, so here’s a photo of him that was taken seven years ago after his very first hair cut.

And here his is this evening, licking his willy.