Contemplating Greening Up

By Kathryn Socie, 8-03-08

	Caption: Photo Credit: Dan Socie

Forgive me Missoula for I have sinned. It was one of those terrible mornings when you wake up a few minutes late and then suddenly it dawns on you that you have an early meeting.  I started the coffee, got an egg going and jumped in the shower. Then, consumed said runny egg on a burnt piece of toast in the kitchen dressed in a towel.  I managed to shave but one leg, ruling out the skirt I had planned to wear—sure wish I could go granola and skip shaving altogether, but there are remnants of my glamour eighties hair days I just can’t shake. I then had to come to terms with my serious need to do laundry and finally settled on a lightly soiled pair of pants considered clean if you ignored the grease streaks on the cuffs from my bike chain.

Having extreme fidelity to meeting the exercise needs of my two mega-energy dogs, I had to squeeze in our morning stroll.  On second thought, since the bike grease was already there, I went with the faster option of a bike ride, dogs sprinting alongside.  We headed up a trail and the dogs were running at top speed, tongues hanging out next to me when my mind wandered off.  Focused on the things I needed to make sure I had with me for the day, the items on the agenda I needed to remember for the impending once forgotten meeting, it took me a good minute to realize that blue dog wasn’t keeping up. 

I turned and finally caught a glimpse of her way up a steep hillside taking care of business—she likes a little privacy. But, getting off my bike, climbing that distance to fetch and bag the poo, racing down and biking home was just going to take too much of my already limited time.  After moments of contemplation, I did it. I sinned.  I left it there. A solitary pile of poo, festering, contributing to the many ecological evils dog poo is accused of making. Ugh.

I am by all accounts a conscientious dog owner-- a loather of barking, a regular user of leashes and a poo bagger.  It was just this one-day, this one terribly rushed morning. And as I sat telling a friend the story, I was shocked by just how much guilt was in my voice and how much time I had spent internally justifying my decision.  I found myself saying things like “How many dog owners can really pick up every pile?  How realistic is that?” She sat starring at me rather blankly.  For good reason, who really wants to listen to someone in tumult over dog poo?

Sure, on the surface it may seem like a totally ridiculous thing to spend any emotional time on, but to me it’s representative of an even bigger issue.  I mean, I worry about my ecological impact all of time, minimizing my me-ness in the world as much as possible, burning calories rather than oil, buying local, following the three R’s.  Domestic animals aren’t exactly innocent when it comes to crimes against the environment; they definitely have an impact. Everybody knows of the murderous songbird ways of cats and there are regular write-ups about wicked deer chasing dogs.  Although I can control the wildlife harassment issue, I also have to be aware of my dogs as vectors, spreading noxious weeds, my dogs as pollutants, spreading disease.  Ugh.

What’s a dogged girl supposed to do?  How do I green up my act?

In the meantime, in repentance I picked up one random poo pile in addition to my own dogs’ for a week straight.  Hardly much of an effort, but for now, I guess, it’s a matter of one pile at a time (well, two for both of my dogs).