The Washington Post

John Kelly
April 13, 2010

Picture the loveliest, most inviting thing you can imagine: the cool crispness of a bed made with freshly laundered sheets, the warm peach fuzz on a baby’s head, the clink of ice cubes in a cocktail glass as you watch the sun set over the beach.

 

Sadly, this column will not be about any of those things. No. I’m afraid it’s time to talk about dog poop again.

 

It is an unpleasant fact of life that dogs turn food into waste. Until someone genetically engineers a dog that can poop out diamonds or iPads or Berkshire Hathaway stock, dealing with doo will be one of the least enjoyable things about dog ownership.

 

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