I Am My (Grand)Dad....
(c) David Volk
Years ago, I used to go to a weekly potluck where one of the other
regular guests noted that all conversations eventually degenerate into
one of three areas: death, sex and poop, although not necessarily in
Today, I'd like to speak to you briefly about that last subject.
As I was finishing up lunch, I saw a beautiful golden retriever relieve
itself in front of our house (one wonders if that would make it a
golden reliever, but that's a question for another time) as its owner,
an elderly gentlemen looked around to see if anyone was watching. Not
seeing a car in the driveway, I guess he thought no one was home. So,
when the dog was done, the man pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket,
bent down with bag in hand, pretended to do his civic duty and went on
I'm pretty sure he wasn't prepared for someone to chase him around the
corner telling him "Sir, I believe you missed something." To be
perfectly honest, it seemed more like something my grandfather would
do, but I did it anyway.
And I'll be damned if he didn't pull another bag out, this time with a
piece of newspaper in hand, pick some of it up and leave the rest
PEOPLE, PEOPLE, PEOPLE, If you have a dog and you're talking your pet
out for walk, you really should be prepared to clean up after said
animal. If I had a kid, I wouldn't ask you to clean up its poopy
diaper, so why do you feel I should clean up after you?
I can't believe I just said that. Maybe I was just channeling my
grandfather, but in your heart, you know I'm right.
From the grandson of Louis "GET THE HELL OFF MY LAWN" Greenberger
David G(reenberger) Volk