Today has been poo. As I can't blog about that, I will instead share about the miracle of the poo bag. I realise reading about dog poo is beyond the call of duty as a friend/blog reader, so if you'd rather not, just skip to Friday.
I was looking forward to my dog walk across the wilderness next to drumming as it's been a couple of months since the hound and I last did it. I grabbed a couple of extra poo bags and stuffed them in my coat pocket. There was then a frantic (and failed) hunt for the drumming music book (as I say, it's been a couple of months). Part way there, I realise that my coat was still hanging up at home. Now as it was one of those glorious autumn evenings, the lack of coat wasn't an issue temperature wise, but as I checked every pocket in my jeans and cardigan, and bag, it meant that I didn't have any poo bags. I turfed the boy out for his lesson and checked the many nooks and crannies of the car, uncovering a charity donation bag encased in a small bag that would suffice if desperate. A check of the usually empty boot revealed a summer coat I'd thrown in at the weekend and not only was there a poo bag, but also a disposable glove - hurrah. This was not the miracle.
So we walked and I'll spare you the details but good use was made of not just the bag but I was very grateful, given the dog diarroea, of the glove too. And just when I was wondering if we'd manage the return walk I espied a pristine poo bag fluttering along the path - presumably not long since fallen out of a walker's pocket. Not one of the thin 12p for a hundred bags that I buy, but a substantial sack that served us well for the walk back to the car.
I don't know if it would make a Book of Faith, but for me, in a disappointing day, it showed that if we keep our eyes open, hope is still to be found.
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