I like to think of myself as pretty non-hippyish. I don’t think much of greenishness, I don’t particularly care about the whales, I’m not massively keen on dope, and I don’t know what the point of a dreamcatcher is. I do, however, have a small care for something that could – in a certain light – be mistaken for karma. In that I think that, sometimes, the universe sees fit to bite the arse of those who need it biting, and goes a bit easier on those who’ve been nicer than they need to.
Which is why I particularly liked this tale.
The street upon my workplace rests is plagued by dog shit. This isn’t pleasing to me, but isn’t the end of the world either. I’d rather not have to dodge it on my travels, but then there are a lot of things I’d rather not do. I’ve obviously not built up enough good karma for them to be no longer necessary, so I’ll leave that for now.
Bad karma, on the other hand, seems to work considerably quicker.
One lunchtime, I had a look out the window of my dreary attic office, whereupon I spied a little old lady walking up the road, with one of those little old lady trolleys behind her. Something like this, but please let the minds’ eye add considerably more tartan:
Not terribly unusual in this part of the world. And neither was the little
rat terrier sat upon the trolley. Which resembled this:
The delightful pair made their merry way up the road, stopping just by a bus stop. Where the delightful old lady lifted the delightful little dog down onto the pavement, whereupon it left a delightful little present right where anyone needing to get the bus would need to stand.
The delightful old lady then picked up the dog, replaced it upon the trolley, and started walking off as if she hadn’t just dumped a load of excrement right in peoples’ way.
At which point, the bad karma she had accrued came back to haunt her. Because, you see, in her haste to leave the scene of her terrible offence, she neglected to be sure of the defecating status of her mutt. If she had waited just a moment or two more, she might have gotten away with it. Instead, she got shit all down the side of the trolley; piled on the top of the trolley; and just a little bit down the back of her coat. Karma: 1, inconsiderate old bat: 0.
How I laughed.
We shall not mention the part of the story where my bad karma – picked up during the laughing, I’m sure – made sure that it was I who had to go out with the bucket of water to clear up the bus stop. Because that is in no way relevant to the story.
That was some steaming pile of shite for such a little doggie-woggie….poo.
The village where I work must have the highest ratio of dog shite per head of population in the whole of this isle.
But then again you should see our yard. (Thanks Bonnie)
I have to confess, that was an
artists’ representationphoto lifted off of Google. I think I’d have had funny looks if I’d been taking pictures…
And while your village-of-work may have a high per-capita dogshit ratio, I fear that the area round my workplace must have the highest absolute per square foot of pavement. It really needs to be seen to be believed some days.