Straight Talk About Poop

It's been a while since I've been expressly scatalogical here. I try to avoid the truly foul bits of life in favor of a more sublime level of snarkiness. Still, there are times when a frank discussion of poop is necessary. Now is the time.
My father had a way of dismissing his sons' unhappiness with their meals. "Go ahead and just eat it," he'd say. "It's all going to be poop in four hours anyway." This gave me a tiny bit of solace in the face of some of the terrifying zucchini creations that he set in front of us. This too shall pass. I was well acquainted with the digestive process as the designated pooper scooper.
It was part of the division of labor back then. If you weren't ready or able to take over the lawn mowing duties, you got to pick up after the dog. Once a week, I was dispatched to the back yard with a plastic bag and a rusted beach shovel that had been retired from active play duty to be used exclusively for the scooping of poop. Please feel free at this time to create some amusing Dr. Seuss-ish rhymes on the topic.
When your parents get the dog, they tell you how you're going to have to be responsible for it. Feeding and playing and the occasional accident on the rug are the headings that most readily come to mind. You don't really do the math about every meal having a causal relationship with a mess that you will have to clean up later. Sometimes when I was on my weekly search and retrieve exercise, I would look up and see Rupert, our dachshund, sniffing around a particular spot in that particular way. And at that moment, in the third grade, I understood Sisyphus.
Many years have passed since that day, and I'm working on my second dog. Between Rupert and Maddie I have changed my son's diapers, and I am happy to report that he is now fully capable of dealing with his own poop. Maddie remains a project. Lacking opposable thumbs and the ability to read while on the pot, she continues to be committed to the notion that the world is her toilet. Don't get me wrong, she's housebroken and essentially regular in her habits - but she's a dog, after all. This is one of the ways I can show my care and appreciation of my furry friend. Come to think of it, my son is just about old enough to start understanding the digestive process - and Sisyphus.