Friday, 6 September 2013

Mayor Watson: There's poo in our trees





Dear Mayor Watson:

I have a bum knee, otherwise, I'd have tracked you down at one of the shopping malls where you've moved your office. I have a bone to pick, yessiree, Jimbo.

And here it is.

My dog park, located at Conroy Pit, has dog poo in nearly all of the trees these days. Some of it is low hanging, some of it is hidden away in tree crotches and some of it is speared onto branches to resemble piƱatas. It's in festive blue and red bags, but most of it has Galen Weston's brand on it.

President's Choice, the King of Poo.

If you look in the bushes, there is poo there, too, on the mossy landscape. It's not laying there like the dogs decided to take a crap and the owners didn't pick it up (although there is some of that, too). Nope, the owners have been vigilant about wrapping their dogs' turds before hanging it up. But sometimes, they forget where they leave it.

I believe this is the fault of your council. Perhaps it is the fault of the National Crapital Commission. If it is, my apologies sir, can you please pass this note along to Russell Mills?

Just after Christmas, we noticed that the second garbage tin was gone, the one which is at the half way mark. That receptacle was very appreciated by the dog owners of Conroy Pit, people such as my husband Scott who gets a sore stomach smelling Finnigan's poo when it is attached to his belt for two kilometres of trail.

As a result, my own husband has gone to the dark side. Yes, he has become a tree hanger, too.

We understand that those of you who rule over us are just trying to save a few bucks. Unfortunately, this new plan is misguided.

And you won't save a penny.

I predict that after much hollering by the citizenry, you will be forced to employ some poor soul to walk all around the park picking up year old balloons of dog feces. The situation is so bad, it may call for serious measures. You may need to employ a typical city crew of three. One to spot the poo. One to pick it up. And one to hold a giant President's Choice bag.

Clearly, one guy in a truck a couple times a week could do the same job in about half an hour.

You may say, well, dog owners who use the park, this is your job.

But it's not our job. We pay for this park with our taxes. And most of us pick up the poo.

If you want me to do it, I will but I won't do it for nothing. I hate the smell of poo, fresh or vintage. I shudder every time I see a Doberman or a Newfoundlander.

As the captain said in Jaws: "We're gonna need a bigger bag!"

And let's face it: nobody feels the same way about the poo from a dog that is not her own.

Please sir, rehire the guy with the truck.

Reinstate the mid-way receptacle.

Elections are coming up and I'm voting for whoever brings back the mid-way receptacle.

Then we can all breathe a little easier.

Thank you.

No comments:

Post a Comment