Scoopa D'Poop Daily

The dog poop was lurking under the shade of the trampoline, hoping I wouldn’t notice. Nice try, pal—I spotted that rogue turd from across the yard, huddled together with the usual suspects... those turds. They had to be up to something. I tiptoed over, ears open, trying to catch their dirty dealings. No luck—just a foul breeze drifting by, threatening my gag reflex. I knew this wasn’t a one-person job, so I rallied the troops: Ronnie (my trusty right hand), the Kneepad Twins, and the rest of the crew—OJ Bucket and KB (Kitchen Bag) included. Most importantly, Louie Glove was ready for hand-to-turd combat. We decided to approach from the back, entering the shady underworld beneath the trampoline. This was no bright and bouncy playground—more like a dank, dark arena where the stink factor was off the charts. A lone beagle howled in the distance, sending chills down my spine. I had a feeling we’d find more trouble as we crawled deeper. The turds never saw us coming. Louie Glove was f...

L.P. Miller rolled into town in his Honda Ridgeline, the storm right behind him. Clouds churned and thunder barked in the far distance, promising to ruin his day. As he arrived at his destination, he stepped down from the saddle and meandered over to the back of his faithful steed. The Ridgeline was black as night, with white and chrome markings. Her name was Faith, and she was a beauty—L.P.’s home away from home. He opened up the back satchel and withdrew his sidearm: the Corona Garden Rake. The rake felt good in his hand, perfectly balanced, like a cowboy with his six-shooter. L.P. was careful with the business end of this tool—seven tines that had seen action before. He kept his rake clean, knowing he might encounter the object of his search at any time, and a dirty rake wouldn’t do the job. He never expected to be the most sought-after scooper in the county, but we don’t make those calls—the customers do. L.P.’s keen eye and itchy rake hand had earned him a reputation for scoopin’ ...

Dear Dog Poop, I've never liked you. In fact, I disliked you, just like every other human alive has. I never believed in you or thought of you as my only hope. I scowled at you, wrinkled my nose at you, and called people by your name. I feel bad for that now because I think you are beautiful. You are what I've staked my life on, what I have asked God for, and you are what I'm yearning for. I need you and want you in my life. I want to swoop you up in my bin, play hide and seek with you, tuck you away in my bag, and take care of you the way everyone should. I hate how people treat you. They ignore you, leave you exposed to be stepped on. They treat you like you don't exist, like they don't see you. They curse at you when they step on you and scrape you off in the grass. To me, you are as good as gold. You deserve to be where you belong. You deserve to be respected and hidden away from the prying eyes and noses of the public. Come with me, so the kids can run in the g...