Typist: Bethany
The day that cleaning up my dogs poop almost killed me was one of those pet friendly adventure days of the highest highs and the lowest lows. Literally. I was high in the mountains of Cascadia and took a dozen or so rides on a ski lift. Then I was laid out in the parking lot on top of where I had just picked up after my dog. The parking lot that day was a thick sheet of ice dotted like Swiss cheese with potholes of slushy, smelly mud puddles. When we arrived at the ski resort, I quickly but carefully shuffled the dogs across the dangerous frozen muck so they could play in some of the lovely, freshly fallen snow the mountain had to offer. Cascade mountain peaks jutted into the sapphire blue sky 360 degrees around the dogs and I. The white, glittery trees weighted with snow sparkled like friendly ghosts in the late morning sunshine and the dogs blazed furry trails through snow drifts often higher than them. Well, especially higher than dachshund Wilhelm. Once all three dogs seemed content, we braved our way back across the dirty ice rink parking lot with a quick stop at the dumpster so I could dispose of the journey's full, blue plastic bags of dog poop. I settled the dogs safely in for a few hours of car rest while I did some downhill skiing.

It was a glorious day for skiing! I was so happy on the slopes but eventually it was time for lunch and to give the dogs another chance to also enjoy the mid-winter snow. I dined with the dogs and had my fill of ski replacing calories before leashing them up to again brave the harder than concrete, more slippery than an oil slick parking lot. We warily made it safe and sound to the glistening, deeply drifted fresh snow trails where Wilhelm, Brychwyn, and Huxley could safely sniff, romp, and wrestle. Once all three dogs had long tongues dangling joyfully from their heavy fog producing mouths in the cold mountain air, and my hardy lunch felt like it had done enough digesting for me to comfortably get more fantastically smooth ski runs in, the dogs and I turned back towards the dangerous drudgery that was the parking lot. The dumpster and the car were within view as we carefully crossed the slippery void when little dachshund Wilhelm began his "I have to poop" sniffing circles at the end of his leash. As Wilhelm squatted, I removed the glove from my right hand, tucked it firmly under my left arm, and ripped a poop bag from my roll.

My next, obvious move began the chain of events that lead to my near death dog poop scooping experience. It began with my hand going right through the bottom of the poop bag. Now, I had other poop bags with me, but really? This never happens! And my hand was already cold. I looked at the tiny pile of miniature dachshund poop and decided to fold the dog poop delicately into the torn bag and place it carefully, contamination free, into my left glove. I glanced towards the near-by dumpster. It was less than one hundred yards away. I could make it! I was wrong. The last thing I remember seeing was that precariously not-contained-in-a-tightly-tied-bag in my gloved hand. My next step was a doozy.

I was not going to let an iced over parking lot and the sound of broken bones echoing through my head stop me from properly disposing of this poop! What seemed like twenty hours and four hundred miles of walking later, but was in actuality was only a few minutes and a dozen steps, I confronted the dumpster. Still afraid to move what I thought was my broken left arm, I gently pried the formed blue plastic crumpled poop bag from my left glove with my still bare right hand. I vaguely remember asking the dogs not to get to near the stinky dumpster as I cracked it open and disposed of Wilhelm's poop. Turning my gaze on my next goal, the car, is an injured shock blur but I do remember exclaiming, "See! I'm okay!" to the dogs, of course. After all, the poop had been scooped and properly disposed of. What is more okay than that? Walking back to the car as if across shards of glass with bare feet, I wiggled my left hand, moved my left arm slowly and discovered that it was fine. Upon getting the dogs back into the car and sitting gently with them under the open back hatch, I braved moving my arm enough to decide that my shoulder may be injured but it was not broken either. Struggling to breath while examining my left arm movement, I remembered that same feeling from another fall I had a few years ago. A fall that, among other things, caused a few cracked ribs. Ah-ha! Honestly relieved that my arm, wrist, and shoulder seemed fine, but beginning to worry about the life threatening complexities of broken ribs, I remembered, at least I had scooped that poop. It was too bad that the days skiing was obviously done. The highest of highs was behind me except for a decent back to Seattle's sea level. But the lowest lows of the day had been worth it. These mountains are too beautiful to have left dog poop laying around!

My broken and separated, front and back, ribs from my fall that day are healing slowly, but I am impatient about these kinds of things. Thank you to my family, friends, readers, and followers who have wished me well and helped me care for five pets while recovering. I am truly thankful to "the poop grip," as it has come to be known, for preventing me from breaking my wrist, arm, or shoulder! I have discovered yet another reason that constantly cleaning up after my dogs, no matter what, without fail, is always the right thing to do.

Have you ever risked your life to do the right thing, cleaning up dog poop or otherwise?

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Bring poop bag share stations to your neighborhood.
Have you tried adding a community poop bag share station in your neighborhood? A lot of readers have expressed concerns that their cities or neighborhoods might not allow such scoop that poop reminders. Here are some suggestions to help clean up your neighborhood, provide poop nags for those who might occasionally forget or run out (it happens to the best of us!) and spread the Scoop That Poop word:

• Know the law. Check your neighborhood rules and laws about posting signs and items. If you are not allowed to install neighborhood poop bag share stations on public property, add them on private property. If you put a successful station in your yard, other neighbors might want them in their yards too.
• Change the rules. Attend neighborhood, park or city meetings. If city, park or neighborhood officials know the importance of adding community poop bag share stations to your streets or parks, they can create an allowance. Perhaps you can get them to allow one as an experiment (like I did with my first one.) It could prove a poop bag share station can help and not look ugly. Personally, I think anything looks better than poop on the ground!
• Seek allies. If you work with other neighbors either to change the rules to allow poop bag dispensers to be installed or to put community poop bag share stations up, more people will learn how important it is to clean up after their dogs. Talk to other dog owners on your street, ask neighbors whose yards often have a lot of poop, or pass out flyers to find other neighbors that agree your neighborhood would benefit from a poop bag exchange. The neighbor whose fence post I put a poop bag dispenser on does not have dogs but has been pleasantly surprised by the results of the poop bag holder. I soon hope to find more neighbors willing to host community poop bag share stations.
  

With the weather in Cascadia rapidly turning more wet and cold, it is the season of more and more dog poop getting left behind. That also means more disease gets washed into our fragile water ways. I hope to soon install a few more homemade poop bag dispensers around my neighborhood. Even the best of responsible dog owners forget or run our of poop bags every once in a while. It is possible for neighborhoods and parks to allow dog owners to help each other do what is best for the community and the environment and always, always scoop that poop.

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My next mission was to put up another community poop bag share station at a nearby park. The park itself is usually poop pile free but the blocks surrounding the park can be pretty gross. I think that an obvious and centrally located dog poop bag dispenser could be a big help. Both the do-it-yourself water bottle poop bag holder and the sign from BuildASign.com had to be attached to a pole at the park with zip ties. This is definitely a dog poop bag share that I hope will last and gain active community participation.

Cascadian Nomads received complimentary product from BuildASign.com in exchange for our honest review. We were not otherwise compensated for this post. Cascadian Nomads only shares information that is relevant to our readers and all opinions are always our own.
*Cascadian Nomads is hosting this $25 BuildASign.com giveaway, will choose (at Random.org on July 28th) and notify the winner (via e-mail) but BuildASign.com is responsible for prize fulfillment. BuildASign.com offers more than just signs and the winner can use the $25 towards any product. Cascadian Nomads Scoop That Poop sign and any comment ideas are simply meant to inspirational.

If you missed our post on how to make your own versatile community poop bag share station by re-purposing a plastic water bottle, check it out here. Did you make one? Please let us know how it has worked out!

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Typist: Bethany
Let's be honest, shall we? Poop is funny. Unless you have been living under a rock, you know that everybody does it. And if you have been living under a rock, there is probably poop under there. Poop is not icky and gross, it's just a fact. Okay, maybe it is icky and gross but it is still an unavoidable part of being alive and living with other beings. For me, part of the constant enjoyment I get out of life with my dogs includes laughing about their bathroom habits and smiling while cleaning up their poop. I treasure any and all precious moments with my dogs and in all truthfulness, those happy thoughts include their poop.

I remember the poop habits of my families litter mate huskies too. They were marking poopers. Each one pooped just one little turd on almost every corner of every block. Did I mention these were my families dogs when I was a preteen and teenager? Yeah. Nobody thinks poop is more icky than a teenage girl. But my parents taught me responsible pet ownership so I dutifully cleaned up each and every poop. At that time, I am sure I fussed and complained and possibly even screamed while doing it but that is not what I now remember. Today, I smile and think of all the wonderful walks I had with those huskies. I loved watching them walk next to each other as if they were a sled team. And I loved that they pooped side by side too.

Every memory of all the dogs I have ever known and loved, and remembrances of travels I have taken with pets, include some sort of reminiscence of their poop. Which is in and of itself hilarious. But my point is this: go out into the world and smile with your dogs. Snicker at their antics. Giggle at their silliness. Grin at their cunning. Beam at their unconditional love. And, yes, laugh at their elimination habits. And always, always, scoop that poop preferably with a smile.

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