Directory of Lost Causes (By Quentin S. Crisp)

The Excrement of Man's Best Friend

I suppose all these things are a matter of taste, but I don't actually like dogshit.

I've just come back from a walk on the beach in the seaside town where I spent many of my formative years. I used to walk my dog on that beach, and it was through walking my dog, I think, that I got into the habit of walking generally, even though I no longer have a dog, and have no plans ever to have a dog again.

I was hoping, on this walk, to take some photographs of this very picturesque (in an Arthur Machen, fungoid kind of way) and relatively little-known area of the world, when, walking along the sands, I knew, through sense of smell alone, that I had disturbed a carefully concealed landmine of dogshit.

At first I thought I could walk it off in the sand, or rinse it in the rockpools, but I should have known that this was not enough. I would have to climb some of the rocks surrounding the beach, to the areas of vegetation, in search of a stick. The sticks I found got rid of the bulk of the substance, but it was clear that a layer of muck still adhered to my shoe. I flattered myself that I was drawing on my country upbringing or some race memory, or even common sense, and tore up clumps of stringy beach-grass (I don't know the proper name for it) with which to wipe off the rest. In drawing my shoe up, had I got some on my coat? This was getting impossible. My walk had turned into a major operation against the insurgence of dogshit.

After a while, I told myself that my efforts would have to suffice, and hoped the rest of my walk would help ameliorate the situation. I also made a mental note to take my shoes off before stepping back inside the front door.

Is there any shit on Earth, I wonder, that is fouler than dogshit? This is how foul dogshit is: Depending on the human, it's even worse than human shit.

When I had a dog, it still had not really become law or social custom to take a plastic bag and scoop your dog's poo up after you. I generally tried to urge my dog into places that would not inconvenience people too much, what I think used to be called "kerbing (curbing?) your dog". On the occasions I trod in what someone else's dog had done, I took it philosophically as part of life's rich and very pungent tapestry. Now, I understand the reasons for the social custom of cleaning up after your dog, and they form, for me personally, a very good argument against having a dog, since I'm not overly keen to handle dogshit, even through the protective barrier of a plastic bag.

(At this point I begin to think to myself that there are people waiting to hear from me, and I will claim to have been busy. Writing. About dogshit?)

Anyway, I love dogs, but I am reminded of something William Burroughs said about dogs being the only self-righteous animal, which is what, he explained, makes a dog's snarl so ugly. Similarly, I wonder if the foulness of dogshit is not something to do with the indignity of the fact that dogs are the most closely domesticated of all animals. I would be mildly surprised to hear of a wild animal with fouler shit. If anyone knows of any fouler shit, I would be interested to hear of it.