S***-worthiness is not a given

A mosaic in Pompeii states “Cave canis”. Indeed, dogs are remarkable animals. While descendants from wolfs, they have quickly become man’s best friend, a title largely uncontested by man’s loving wife or life partner. Aside from developing this close bond, facilitated by a billion-dollar industry that sells free-range & GMO-free treats to avoid them eating us in our sleep, it’s the dogs’ astonishing sense of smell – with, according to PBS.org, some 300 million olfactory receptors in their noses and a brain area processing these signals about 40 times that of ours’ – that commands utter respect. Not surprisingly then, brave service dogs assist in rescue missions, explosives’ detection and as guide dogs around the world.

Let me tell you about another trait, one that’s less obvious. When you walk your dog, much like KITT on the (still surprisingly popular) series Knight Rider (in Germany), he or she constantly assesses the terrain for areas that need marking or better yet, re-marking; that is, in addition to barking, fledging of teeth, tail wagging and the occasional hair raising, dogs communicate with each other through traces of bodily fluids they leave behind and that includes urine, saliva, secretion from glands on their paws – and feces. Now, basic metabolism will teach that there is a limit to the availability of some of these at any given point in time, and as such our furry friends must constantly evaluate whether the, for us, invisible scent-‘scape’ warrants the excretion of such a limited commodity then & there. With (internal) supply outstripping (external) demand, from a purely economics perspective, dogs have to assess if a certain piece of grass, concrete or just your new carpet is “shit-worthy” – in other words, not every sorry piece of highway dirt is worth defecating on!

Fascinating! surely – not only should this novel insight alleviate the hitherto perfectly understandable anger of a myriad of tired homeowners stepping in the neighbor’s pooch’s well-camouflaged “messages” while grabbing their newspaper in the morning; rather, while you desperately try to get the stinky remnants off your shoe profile, having been officially deemed ‘shit-worthy’ counts for something in a world full of competition and eager for labels that ooze pedigree. On the macroscale, this promises to yield a completely new take on real estate mapping across the country, sort of a canine-endorsed shit-filter on Zillow – location-location-location – which henceforth is code for “Shit³”. Lastly, with the President labeling most of everything south of Mar-a-Lago to be or to closely resemble “shithole” countries, I see a mass migration of top bred dogs from affluent US suburbs to the Southern Hemisphere where they undoubtedly mingle with the local peritos in the vicinity of US-themed installations like general consulates, fast food chains or ATMs. As such, ‘shit-worthiness’ has socio-economic implications if not political dimensions.  

To part, let me add a word of caution: In that context, the well-meant slogan of city planners and eager departments of health officials – “pick up after your dog” – seems like an ill-fated attempt to fraudulently reassign property “value”. So, when you walk your dog the next time with only one poop bag left and you discover it’s ripped (ideally just in time before you pick up) – no need to clench your teeth, hush the unsuspecting animal and flash an embarrassed look over your shoulder. Quite the opposite: You are proudly preserving your best friend’s carefully chosen valuations, like an open-air asset manager with geopolitical ambitions.

No shit.