many of my lefty buddies have decided to quell the pangs of parenthood by having lots of dogs, so I can relate to Noah's frustration with the dog owners of San Fran, an otherwise lovely town.
Although I've never had the fear of my son being tagged with skidmarks, I have had some run-ins with logs in my time. Most notably, I was jogging in a blizzard last year (no, Brig, I'm not trying to make you feel like a slug). As I was coming down a steep hill, I felt my right foot shoot forward and immediately I was horizontal, sliding downward on my side. As I came to a rest after fifteen or so feet, I realized an unmistakable smell: ripe kibble mixed with vinegar and horse-nuts. Yes, I had a large stripe of poo marking the entire length of my left side.
I hope the hipster who enjoyed a nice stroll with his dog meant it as a practical joke on a random neighbor. Pretty funny stuff, if it was filmed. The thing is, mixed in with the poo on my side was little bits of plastic bag: as if the owner went to the trouble of scooping the poo, but just left it there for some unsuspecting schmoe to surf on.
I read somewhere that in greater Salt Lake, with a population of 1.7 million, there are a half million dogs. That would explain the effervescent fumes alongside almost any sidewalk in the city. No offence to those that enjoy dogs. I'm even cool with the whole "all dog all the time" set who refuse to go to national parks and other places where dogs aren't allowed. In fact, one of my best friends (an outdoorsie type) has stated that she refuses to see Canyonlands, Zion, etc. because of their "oppressive" dog policies. Apparently, she would like to have her 'non-child' child by her side while I go Poo-Boarding in God's creation. She better film the whole thing.