The sun was shining, the polar ice caps that had formed along every curb were melting and I could have sworn I heard a bird chirping. I felt the sun’s warm rays dissolve the hardened crust of stress and anxiety I’d been carrying on my shoulders for weeks. We dashed off down the lane, the two big kids and I, across the busy street, under the tracks, along a side street, through another laneway shortcut and scaled a mountain of snow and ice in an empty lot on the way to pick up Mary from nursery school.
Blinking in the bright noon light, I said,”I guess it’s time for lunch.”
“Where should we go?” asked Colum.
As if. Such spoiled kids. I’d meant we should go home and slap together some sandwiches.
“You guys feel like sushi?” What can I say? Nice weather turns me into a sucker.
We gobbled up a couple orders of maki and started to make our way back home along the main street. We took our time, admiring store front displays and greeting friends and neighbours along the way. I even let Irene push Mary in the stroller for a little bit, waiting patiently as she plowed the stroller into snow banks and nearly ran passersby off the sidewalk.
Spring was in the air and nothing could dampen my spirit.
I stopped to chip away at some of the melting ice in our laneway parking spot and the big kids were already waiting at the back door when I pushed Mary into the yard. We should put up a new fence on the south side this year, I thought. I pictured vines growing up over a nice wooden fence, kids in the sandbox, the dappled shade from the maple tree. I could practically smell next year’s herb garden.
That’s when I noticed the smear of yellow. It was a brownish-yellow, sitting freshly atop the flattened snow in the back yard. And there it was again, a couple feet down. And again! This time is sat in a big, unmistakable lump, halfway to the back door.
“Okay, who stepped in dog poop and tracked it all through the back yard?”
“Not me!”
“Not me!”
“Well, somebody did. Let me look at your boots.”
Colum held his up and got an all clear. Irene started whining and crying about being cold and wanting to go in. I wrenched up one of her boots and there it was, a thick, coating of mustard-yellow shit, all across the bottom of her sole.
“No!” She squirmed away, screaming and wrenching her foot this way and that.
“Stop it! Just let me take off the boot here and you can step inside.”
“No! No! No! No!”
I made a grab for her foot as she jumped into the backdoor and landed on one foot. Got it! I pulled her boot off and turned it over. It was clean. NOOOOOOO. I leaned down and grabbed her other foot before she could take another step and somehow managed to pry it off and she stumbled into the house crying. Because clearly she must keep wearing the dog crap covered boot at all costs. I can’t even begin to imagine.
But it was too late. There was giant yellow smear on the black mat and the dog poo, soft and mousse-like as it was, was ground into the boot’s every crevice. Ugh. A wave of revulsion slid down my back. Random fucking creature shit. Fantastic.
So I dumped Mary into the kitchen and decided to start with the yard. I scooped up some crap with the kiddie-sized snow shovel and tried to figure out where to put it. I settled on a snow bank off the lane, hoping it would somehow wash away by spring. I looked down at the bright yellow blob of poo after I moved it and thought, well, that looks pretty bad.
Thus began my efforts at moving and covering, somehow concealing and (hopefully) magically disappearing all evidence of the poo. But every time I tried to move it or cover it, the mess seemed to grow. It was like when the Cat and the Hat Comes Back and the snow outside gets covered in spots. But instead of rosy pink spots, it was putrid shit-coloured spots. And instead of a team of tiny little cats cleaning it up it was just me.
It just kept on spreading! Was this even dog poo? Retch. I cleared it all away to the corners of the property as best I could and lay down fresh snow over the smears I couldn’t move. Then I moved on to the boot.
I grabbed a handful of baby wipes and paper towels from inside and tried to wipe it off with snow. This, of course, resulted in more shit-stained snow to deal with. And still, the fecal matter clung to my daughter’s winter boot like Rob Ford’s mayoralty. How long would it take the stench to wear off?
Many, many twigs, puddles, wipes, paper towels and more clean snow later, I was able to bring the boot back into the house.
In other news, I wonder if door mats will be going on sale any time soon.