that old rosie
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I came in from the shops this morning, sat down at my pc for a breather,
and noticed a horrible smell.
'Oh my goodness' I thought. 'My feet are smellings already, and it's only
March!'
It was deferably coming from my feet department, so I took off my right
Skechers fashion trainer and sniffed it, but it smelled sweet as a daffodil.
I typed a couple of desultory emails, but all the while wondering what I
could
do about the foul foot smell that was in my nostrils.
Then Mr Rosie came home and walked into the kitchen and started ranting
about dog poo.
When I sit at the pc, because my legs are shorter than the old man's, I rest
my feet on the cross support of the chair. And it is true that, at this
point,
I had inadvertantly scraped off a goodly amount of doggy poo onto
the supporting crosspiece of the chairlegs. Inadvertantly, of course.
I didn't notice it. But the old man did.
Mr Rosie was incandescent.
He has a thing about doggy poo, and so have I , but not so much as he has.
I had to throw the Skechers away. The left one was discovered to be
caked in dog poo, and neither of us wanted to clean it. I wouldn't
have wanted to wear it afterwards, anyway, to be honest. It was forever
tainted.
Our next door neighbours are responsible. They have a son who brings
his two horrible pit bulls to visit, and they are not supervised, and have
left
piles of poo in our garden on a couple of previous occasions.
Last time they were here, one of them dashed outside into the road,
and was hit by a passing car. Unfortunately, the car wasn't going
fast enough and the dog suffered only a mild trauma to the ribs.
I was standing in my own drive at the time, and the dog was
so cross and snappy after its misadventure, that I had to quickly hop
into the back seat of my car (the nearest door to hand) to avoid
its aggressive reaction to almost getting squashed on the road.
I do so detest and despise irresponsible dog owners.
On the upside. My feet don't smell anywhere near as bad
as a pile of shit left by a pit bull.