Doo the Poo

Every morning, Edouard and I, play hopscotch. We try to avoid the patches of dog poop that litter the side-walk on our way to his school. It came to no surprise to realize that our neighbourhood streets (and the shores around Étang d'Ixelles) were open-air dog toilets. We had been warned by fellow ex-pats. Side-stepping poo was a skill picked up long ago in Paris. Hence, avoiding the steamy piles has become somewhat automatic. Like blinking.

So, yesterday morning, I saw a man waiting behind a squatting little white dog. I figured it was "business" as usual and made a mental note to avoid the new obstacle. To my utter disbelief, he bent down and scooped the poop, bag in-hand. I was about to congratulate him on his civic mindedness, when he emptied the bag of poop onto the street. Dumbfounded, I stared at him pocket the bag (!?).

Plastic bags take centuries to decompose, so perhaps, rinsing out the bag was his little contribution to the environment...