Wilf Lunn: Getting all the dirt on the habits of Eurodog

Oct 24 2009 by Wilf Lunn

I said I expected Paris to be bad but when I was there I didn’t see any. This is apparently surprising because Yves Contasot, who was responsible for keeping the streets clean from 2001 to 2008, called Paris the dog-poo capital of the world.

In 2005 they failed to get the 2012 Olympics by 54 to 50 votes. Apparently the Japanese opposed the Olympic Games being in Paris because of the mess, which is surprising because my grandson Luke and his partner Kirsty have just returned from Paris and they said it’s inundated with Japanese.

I didn’t ask if they were wearing those high rise sandals they use on muddy streets. (We called them pattens).

Apparently men go round Paris with freezer packs on their backs which they use to freeze the poo and then vacuum it up.

I don’t really believe it’s then ground down and sold as snuff, but they do eat snails and frogs’ legs. I wonder if they leave the toe nails!

Dog poo was a pavement problem in England during the 50s and 60s. This was because dogs were let out all day to wander the streets. If you see the rare lone dog now on the streets we assume it’s lost.

In Germany any stray dog runs the risk of being shot because of rabies. I wonder if German dogs were as considerate as ours were during the war blackout. As you know our dogs contributed to the war effort by depositing white poo which was easy to see in the dark. This phenomenon was caused by rationing; dogs were fed a lot of bones.

Finley, my friend, in Brittany only last week, said he spotted an albino specimen and seriously consider sending it to me so I could confirm their existence to a sceptical public.

When I lived in Marsh our back yard was crazy paved so when Rosebud the dog did her business it just lay there in the sun desiccating. I threatened to stick cocktail stick flags in the piles and issue maps if anyone went out there, it was so bad.

The hint was taken and the dung disappeared.

Later, in the garden, Dave Rogers and I were testing a cannon for the first time. I positioned myself at a distance to see the effect. Because he had only two foot of wire to fire the charge Dave had to stand very close to the cannon.

I shouted “Fire”. There was a huge explosion and I watched as a large beautiful smoke ring slowly ascended. When I looked back down at the cannon Dave had disappeared. I ran over. He’d been blown back into the kids’ sand pit, fortunately unarmed but unamused – he’d found all the dog muck.

I was reminded of this when Fiona was little. If she was bored I’d say go and find the little chocolate cigars in the cat litter. This was a good lesson in life, because it taught her not to believe every thing men said.

Anna my other daughter already knew this. When she was small we were walking across Greenhead Park when I spotted some horse muck on the path. I tried to make the walk more exotic by saying: “Don’t step in that giraffe dung”. She replied: “Don’t be silly Dad it’s donkey s**t”. The things they learn at nursery.

She didn’t have the advantage then of the German children’s book on poo recognition, ‘The Little Mole Who Wanted To Know Who’d Done A Poo On His Head’.

In the book it shows different poos; bird, horse, rabbit, goat, cow and pig poo. But guess who’d pooed on the little mole’s head, yes it was a dog.

Now I’ve given the end away but it still worth reading. I think there is an English version.