Rose Seemann - The Pet Poo Pocket Guide: How to Safely Compost & Recycle Pet Waste

Praise for The Pet Poo Pocket Guide

Whether youre looking to safely manage your own pets waste or revolutionize the way we handle our nations, this book is for you. With humor, passion and years of experience, Seeman offers greener disposal solutions that will frankly leave you excited to scoop! A one-of-a-kind guide that every pet owner or solid waste manager must own.

Aimee Christy, Research Scientist, Pacific Shellfish Institute, Olympia, WA

In this concise, engaging, and often humorous guide, Seeman provides an array of options for sustainable pet waste disposal and upcycling. With contagious enthusiasm and no-nonsense pragmatism, the author encourages us to overcome the ick factor and be proactive in reducing our pets carbon paw prints. Theres enough technical detail and scientific background to satisfy the composting geek, explained in down-to-earth language accessible to the general reader.

Sami Gray, landscaper/nurserywoman/botanist, Washington State

Copyright 2015 by Rose Seemann.

All rights reserved.

Cover design by Diane McIntosh.

Cover images iStock

Main image iStock ma_rish Flies & hearts iStock Nenochka

First printing April 2015.

Inquiries regarding requests to reprint all or part of The Pet Poo Pocket Guide should be addressed to New Society Publishers at the address below. To order directly from the publishers, please call toll-free (North America) 1-800-567-6772, or order online at www.newsociety.com

Any other inquiries can be directed by mail to: New Society Publishers

P.O. Box 189, Gabriola Island, BC V0R 1X0, Canada

(250) 247-9737

LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION

Seemann, Rose, author

The pet poo pocket guide : how to safely compost and recycle pet waste / Rose Seemann.

Includes index.

Issued in print and electronic formats.

ISBN 978-0-86571-793-0 (pbk.). ISBN 978-1-55092-588-3 (ebook)

1. Compost. 2. Animal wasteRecycling. 3. Pet cleanup.

I. Title.

TD796.5.S44 2015 631.875 C2014-907941-9

C2014-907942-7

This book is intended to be educational and informative. It is not intended to serve as a guide. The author and publisher disclaim all responsibility for any liability, loss or risk that may be associated with the application of any of the contents of this book.

The interior pages of our bound books are printed on Forest Stewardship Council-registered acid-free paper that is 100% post-consumer recycled (100% old growth forest-free), processed chlorine-free, and printed with vegetable-based, low-VOC inks, with covers produced using FSC-registered stock. New Society also works to reduce its carbon footprint, and purchases carbon offsets based on an annual audit to ensure a carbon neutral footprint. For further information, or to browse our full list of books and purchase securely, visit our website at: www.newsociety.com

Nature does have manure and she does have roots as well as blossoms, and you cant hate the manure and blame the roots for not being blossoms. Buckminster Fuller

Contents

T his November morning was way too wet and cold to be stomping around the back forty for any appreciable time. I looked at my watch: 7:23. If I didnt get on the road by 7:30, Id be late for work on a Monday always a bad move.

Gretchen was not a stupid dog. She was a shepherd who didnt like to be hurried. The place, the smells, the mood had to be just right before she deposited her treasure with Mother Earth. I had to remain calm or Id botch the entire enterprise.

Do your business, Gretchen! I repeated firmly, giving her leash a few gentle tugs.

She sniffed a rotting tree stump and shoved her snout into a clump of grass with a bit of green lingering at the center. 7:24. This was not going to be an easy morning.

Im more than a little embarrassed to say it, but when Gretchen refused to focus on the business at hand, I would sing to her. Yes, sing. Right out there in the sleet, right there in my hooded trench coat and clunky rubber boots.

She was partial to slow, melodic tunes with lots of cadence. This morning I decided to pull a guaranteed hit out of my walkies playlist: Save Your Heart for Me by Gary Lewis and the Playboys. I sang this song when I soothed her, brushed her fur and ran her bathwater. If you sing a song and nobody except your dog is there to hear it, is it really so crazy?

Was it the little whistle at the start of that song that she loved? I whistled the intro softly and then crooned:

Walk along the lake with someone new / Have yourself a summer fling or two / But remember Im in love with you / And save your heart for me.

She looked up at me with peaked brows. I could see Gretchens resolve melting.

When the summer moon is on the rise / And youre dancing under starlit skies / Please dont let the stars get in your eyes / Just save your heart for me.

Of course she expected all four choruses, which fit nicely into my four-minute window.

Please remember Im in love with you / So save your heart for me / Darling, sa-a-a-ve your heart for me.

So Gretchen did her business. I said, Good girl! and her licorice lips curved into a smile.

She knew all along what I wanted her to do. But the song was an understood token of exchange. I gave so she gave. Silly, softie me. Gretchen is gone, but after all these years, I still cry on cue if that song crosses my mind.

So did I pick up after our Gretchen? The back forty where she did her business wasnt really forty acres. Thats just what we called the 20-by-40-foot strip of wooded property at the end of our back lawn. By the time the deed was done, I had exactly two minutes to slog back to the house, settle Gretchen inside, lose the boots, whip on the high heels and head off to work.

So what did I do with the doo? I made sure that my husband Chuck and our young son Greg walked very carefully around the back forty until we had a chance to clean it up. That didnt happen until spring, six months after we welcomed Gretchen to our house in a suburb north of Pittsburgh. This first reconnaissance and assault resulted in a large plastic tub filled with dog waste. Mission accomplished. But how should we dispose of the payload?

Now I have an abiding respect for garbage collectors and the work they do. I did not want to throw this crap into plastic bags and leave it at the curb. What if it exploded in the compactor, spewing poop shrapnel in all directions? It was too grim to consider.

Since the exercise was taking on the bearing of a military campaign, Chuck suggested that we dig a latrine. So we simply carved out a long, shallow trench and buried Gretchens waste. We did this year after year spring and fall as part of the seasonal yard work. Would I do it that way again? Well, no.

The property sloped down to a creek within view of the trench, so poopy runoff was a distinct possibility. Maybe the pathogens and nitrogen in the waste simply dissipated in the soil and did no harm. Or maybe the pollutants seeped into the groundwater and into the stream and into the Allegheny River. But if damage was done, it was done long ago by a family who meant well but Just Didnt Know Better.

A nd why would they have known better? Back in the day, public health messages about pet waste were pretty basic: Dont touch it. Wash your hands right away if you do. Dont let baby play with it or eat it. Dog doo is a stinky toxin. You could go blind or die. Oh, ick. Stay as far away as possible.