On this fine day I had just scooped a rather generous amount of their poop when a group of kids started making a racket. Ripley, as usual, tried to run away at full speed. No big deal, I thought, until I realized her leash had wrapped around the poop bag I was carrying.
Before I could react, the bag popped – all over me.
I stood there in shock, not knowing what to do. I was a long way from home, and I didn’t have my cell phone on me so I couldn’t call my wife to come get me (“Hey honey, remember how you said you were having a shitty day…?”).
I had no choice but to walk through the neighborhood looking like the victim of a drive-by pudding attack. Luckily I didn’t run into anyone I knew, and nobody stopped me to point out I had something on my shirt (and my pants, and my shoes).
From that day on, I’ve been much more careful about how I hold their doggy droppings.