Crazy Crap Item #114: The part where I update the poop story

Since posting the story of how a man pooped in my yard, I have had many follow-up queries. "Did the 311 guy ever arrive?" "Is the poop still in my yard?" "Did the mad pooper return?" So I figured I should post a follow-up.

Upon returning home from the grocery store, I heaped a healthy helping of litter upon the stinking and fly-covered pile of poop. If the 311 guy comes, I thought, the litter would mark the spot for him, plus all the renegade splatters he might miss. And if he never comes, at least I will have this nice litter to solidify the pile.

Off I went then to enjoy my lunch and put in a load of laundry.

An hour or two passed, and there were still no signs of any sort of government back-up for my poop disaster. It was time, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I realized that this was not the sort of job one wants to get halfway through and discover one has gone about all wrong. I had visions of mad scrambles to maneuver shovels-full of poop into a garbage bag that has folded over upon itself, and mis-aimed scoops that do more damage than good. So I planned it out.

Thinking it through, I realized I really wanted to minimized the amount of contact of the scooping implement with the poop. And since I didn't wish to retain the ground and grass directly beneath the poop, it did not make sense to use a snow shovel or some such flimsy implement. Only a sturdy real-man's shovel would do.

Thankfully, we have many such implements on hand. The previous occupant, Mr. O'Malley, worked for many years for the Streets and Sanitation Department, and left behind a whole passel of ancient contruction tools, all tellingly stamped "City of Chicago." Among these was an old, rusty, sturdy shovel. This would do the trick.

Next, I fetched my floor scrubbing bucket, a large rectangular affair. I lined with a garbage bag.

As I brought these items out front, I caught site of Ruth, who (as you'll recall) learned of my plight from my grocery store announcement. I informed her it was poop scooping time, as I had waited 2 hours and there was still no sign of the mythical 311 crew. She indicated she was impressed with my industry, and offered to help. This, I told her, was a one-person job, and I saw no reason to enlist another in such a nasty task to no good purpose.

Could she watch, then? I assented, and she pulled a lawn chair up to get a good view.

There's not much more to report. My carefully plotted plan worked to perfection. I wedged the shovel in about 2 inches below the surface, and scooped up grass, poop, litter and all in just a few quick swipes. The bucket provided stability; the garbage bag, hygiene. I tied it up quick as a wink, and haulted it to the garbage.

The poop is gone, but not forgotten. As a token, we still have the bald spot in the grass where the poop once was.