The trials and tribulations of poo bagging

After a full on wedding chaperoning experience (the bride, the bridal party and then some very, very, very drunk people) the day before, I sloped off with Max early on Sunday to blow the cobwebs away. Max was just getting over the excitement (we are very rock n roll) of a visit to Pets at home where there are lots of bums to sniff, dog friendly people to jump on and rabbits to eye up when I inflicted a windswept and stormy beach on him.  He loved it, any fear of water has gone as he kept dropping the ball in the water for me.....but I'm wellied up so I'm totally up for hurricane paddling.  And then there is the dog poo etiquette. It's a complicated business. So he gets the urge right on the beach and it's all go, then a wave comes in during his mid-business time and it washes not just his backside but the poo into the sea...I was standing with a poobag ahoy, waves lapping around me, thinking, do I have to get it, or do the waves washing it away take let me off scot free. I judged that getting waist deep in harbour water to fish out disintegrating dog poo was above and beyond even such a crazy lady as I so I left it to float unenthusiastically to Norway, or Stonehaven, the wind was changeable.