Garbage Day
Having a dog in your life means picking up shit, there are no two ways around that. It’s the great equalizer of pet ownership. What isn’t equal is the distance you carry it on any given day. And for me, the dawn of garbage day means the least amount of time I shuttle crap.
Every other day a private trash can is off limits. Even if it’s on the curb, even if there are other feces filled bags in there, that’s your trash and I will not trespass.
Communal dumpsters are another mater. When they are far away from the apartment building and not near overflowing, I feel like they are fair game. Public trash cans in parks are also clearly ok. The small trash cans next to Seattle bus stops are a murky area. In the winter I’m ok using them, but in the summer or if they are near full, I shy away.
But on garbage day, with your can on the curb, I feel like it’s fine to deposit my bag. But only before the garbage truck has come by. There are few worse feelings than hauling a can back into your house only to find a lonely, soggy bag of shit at the bottom.
I don’t know why it’s soggy, but it always is. It’s probably better that I do not know.
So if you see me dropping a bag of shit into your garbage can or dumpster, know that I have thought long and hard about the moral implications of my actions.