The Wicked Witch of Knowle casts a spell on the poop-ignorers

Published on: 10 Nov 2016

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Welcome to our new columnist, The Wicked Witch of Knowle

This is a bonus column for online readers – she is in such a witchy lather about dog mess that she couldn't wait for our next issue ...

In Witch I seek forgiveness

SCRAPPY Little Dog is our first family dog. I grew up with a dog in the 80s. How different it is now. Insurance is a must, you are told. Raw feed her. Jumpers for the cold. Really? Flashy collars for night times walks and never throw her a stick. The thing I am most aware of is the poop issue. Back in the 80s big piles of it on the pavement was commonplace and you mostly managed to dodge it. Now if you happen to see it on the pavement World War Three is ignited on BS4 Connect.

I am on high poop alert when walking Scrappy. But this Witch is part human and I do miss the odd one. I know! I can hear the collective tuts. If Scrappy has scampered far away among the trees and I spot her embarrassed pooping face (they all pull this face when in the act) I make haste to her location. Leaves are my biggest enemy at this time of year as they are the same poopy colour. If it is cold then the steam will give the game away but quite often I have to use my 'poohdar' (scan the area with my eyes until I hone in on it). On occasion my poohdar fails me and I am forced to give up the hunt. These are called Pooh Bombs primed and ready to explode onto some poor unsuspecting leaf kicker.

There is a lady who lives near me. She must be about 100 years old. She walks slowly with her grumpy staffie. I am sure she is responsible for the odd pooh bomb on my street. But she is 100. It would take her half a day to bend down to pick it up and for this reason I forgive her. She is getting out of the house with her beloved pet and is a joy to see. I therefore pick up poop that is not mine if I come across some in a prime stepping-in location. This is pooh karma and ensures my place in heaven or does it?

 The other day on my early morning march around Redcatch Park I spot a large dog doing its business. His owner was far far away fiddling with his phone. I continued my walk, keeping an eye on the dog. It was taking ages. I consider going over and taking it a newspaper. The owner had now clocked the situation but was making no move to deal with it. The beast finally finished, kicked back against the dewy grass and lumbered across to his master. They left the park.

 I was enraged. This man has children who play in the park. What was he thinking? He is also a man of the cloth, a god-fearing individual who considers it acceptable to leave an unholy mess in our park. This made me madder. I ranted to other doggy walkers. It turns out that he pays no heed to his dog's doo-doos all the time. One of those I ranted to is the Godmother of the 8am Redcatch Dog Walking Mafia (you do not mess with her) who informed me that she has bagged his beast's droppings before and handed it to him. Nothing. No sheepish face. No apology. His dog messed up, and God Boy arrogantly turned a blind eye when he should have reached into his soul for his non existent pooh bags, sought forgiveness of this sin and hailed Mafia Marge three times! Pah! You can keep heaven, I'm off in the other direction I think it will be nicer smelling down there.

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