The journey began about 35 years ago, we were hiking over the saddle to the beach, a troupe of us, kikhois over our shoulders, dogs in tow to spend a sublime summer’s day on the beach.
One friend whose staffi shall not be named did the deed. Somewhere along the path: there it was an unsuspecting shoe amidst a swimmer’s things along our path.
The perfect place for the staffi to discretely manage his number 2 without soiling the path.
This struck something deep within us all; the dog’s owner, I suspect, the most.
Considering his options and moral obligations – the idea of scooping the dog’s soft foulness by hand out the shoe; or walking on and claiming he knew of no such dog seemed the sum total of his options as the sun baked down on our heads and the beach beckoned us closer.
The image lodged itself somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind to become something useful in later life.
Little did I know the theme would develop in subtle and obvious ways throughout my adult life to this very date…
