4.5 min readBy Published On: March 28th, 2015Categories: Features0 Comments

Written by Peter Gailunas: An Addendum to Dog Poop: Stop right there!  If you haven’t read “The Scoop on Dog Poop”, read it first.  

Okay, if you are continuing to read, I’m assuming that you have in fact read it.  In the few short weeks since I’ve written “The Scoop on Dog Poop,” a lot pertaining to the subject of dog poop has transpired in my life.  The first thing that happened was early one morning – a trash day in fact – I was pulling out my bags of garbage to put on the curb when I came upon a big huge dog dump.  As I stated in my earlier piece, that is no way to start a day.  So I went back inside to get a plastic bag to pick up the crap before one of my kids stepped in it on their way to school.

An old Sicilian sign

When I went into the kitchen to get a bag, I told my wife.  “There’s a huge pile of sh*t out in front of our house.” Her eyes got wider and she whispered, “Oh no!”

“What?” I asked.

“You know that’s an old Sicilian message to keep your mouth shut,” she said in reference to the piece I had written.  Visions of The Godfather and severed horse heads and fishes wrapped in newspaper filled my brain.  Maybe it was a sign from the person in my neighborhood who leaves dog poop in front of my house.  Maybe it was a message to me that he/she did not like what I had written.  If I knew who the person was I would have picked up the poop and rested it gently on their front door step for them to step in.  Better yet, maybe under their car door handle.  That’s an old Southie message.  But regardless, I picked up the poop so my kids wouldn’t step in it.  

And since I’ve brought up the topic of stepping in it, I’d like to share with you the second incident involving dog poop.  After an early morning soccer game at Moakley Field, my wife and I were chatting with our friends the DeMichele’s on the grassy area above the bleacher overlooking Old Colony Ave as our kids ran around chasing each other.  As we were discussing our day’s plans I see Dan DeMichele’s face change as he looked over my shoulder.  Right where our kids were playing, a teenage boy who was walking his dog stood by and watched his black dog take a big dump and then casually walked away.  Dan called out, “Hey!  Pick it up!” But the boy kept walking and at that moment one of my boys stepped it that hot steaming mound of shit with his soccer cleat. 

But it’s even worse with a cleat

Now it’s bad enough when a kids steps in dog poop.  But it’s even worse with a cleat.  So I had to take off his cleat and rub it in the dirt and grass to get off the big chunks all while the smell is enough to choke an elephant.

Then I had to search the area for a stick to clean out all of the nooks and crannies. Good times.  And all this could have been avoided if that jerk of a teenager was raised right and he picked up his dog’s poop.  But he didn’t. 

 I just would like to see my neighbors and fellow citizens of Southie

I’m sure this won’t be my last incident with dog poop just left on the sidewalk or at the park.  I just would like to see my neighbors and fellow citizens of Southie just do the right thing and pick it up.  So with that I mind I leave you with this last little story that happened 6 years ago when my son Peter was a toddler.  It was a beautiful sunny summer day and we enjoyed a few hours at M Street Park.  I stopped to have a conversation with someone – who exactly I can’t recall – but then next part of my story I will never forget.  I was in the midst of talking as my 18 month old namesake Peter happily toddled around the grass.  And as I was talking, I saw Peter stop and reach down to pick something up.  “What is he picking up?” I thought to myself.  No sooner did I think it I instantly realize it was dog shit he was picking up.  In my mind the rest happens in slow motion.  I screamed “No!!!” and began to run towards him to stop him.  But it was too late. There in his tiny clenched fist was a messy hunk of poop.  A list of diseases and various infections began to spin around in my head.  Without hesitation, I stripped off my shirt and wiped off his hand as best as I could.  I throw out my shirt in the trash and ran down the street clutching my panicked toddler completely shirtless to the safety of antibacterial soap and hot water. 

So don’t be a jerk, pick up your dog’s poop! 

Written by Peter Gailunas