That's My Spot or The Territorial Imperative

That’s My Spot

or

The Territorial Imperative

 

But I Always Sit There

 

 

“That is my spot, in an ever-changing world, it is a single point of consistency”……….Sheldon, The Big Bang Theory. 

 

We took a wonderful river cruise on the Danube via Amawaterways from Vilshofen, Germany to Budapest, Hungary. Everything about the cruise was superb, especially the food. In fact, when people ask about the cruise, I go into a detailed description of the meals even before describing beautiful cities like Vienna or Prague or Budapest.  We were a party of six and at dinner the first night we sat at a circular table for six in a corner in front of the floor to ceiling window in the large dining room.  Delicious food and great views from appetizers through dessert. Dessert was a religious experience. Normally, we are not dessert eaters but good grief! These were good.  See?  I’m getting carried away about the food and neglecting the “Territorial Imperative”. There were no reservations for tables on the 150-passenger ship. We know it was a ship because the crew kept reminding us “you can put a boat on a ship but you can’t put a ship on a boat”. We sat at the same table the second night and enjoyed it so much that we sat there for breakfast the following morning, again for lunch and yet again for dinner. And then on the 3^rd evening…………Sacre Blu! When we arrived for dinner, someone was sitting at OUR table!  Yes, it was now OUR TABLE. Worse, there were only three of them at a table for six!  The nerve! At another table, truth be told, it was another corner table for six with the same window views, we had the expected delicious dinner, drinks and, yes, dessert but there were occasional glances (glares?) at those trespassers.  Our waiter kept tabs on the intruders also. He wondered why we were not at “our table”. This called for a plan of action for the future.  This was not going to happen again! The strategy was simple as it involved one of us getting to the dining room as it opened at 6 p.m. - just when Happy Hour ended - and walking three steps out of the door of the lounge and into the dining room and claiming OUR table via the Territorial Imperative while the rest of us finished our drinks.  We also had the same table at breakfasts because apparently, it was not in high demand for those meals. Thus, we had OUR table for the rest of the cruise and yes, we all sat in the same seats at the table after the 2^nd night. Sadly, our cruise came to an end on a Saturday morning, and we spent the day touring Budapest (beautiful city), and flew home on a Monday. When we got home and looked at pictures posted on the Amawaterways Facebook site, the next cruise had already begun.  Someone posted pictures of themselves, and they were sitting at OUR table with OUR wait staff and someone was in MY seat.  Yeesh! I thought they would encase our table in glass for exhibition purposes because we were such fabulous guests. We had no right to that table when the cruise began but by day two it was “our” table.  Why?

 

The idea for this essay came from Margaret and her friends discussing what I call “spot placement “at fitness classes. The term, "territorial imperative" came to mind.  Research indicated that Robert Ardrey, first coined the phrase ‘Territorial Imperative’ in his 1966 book which just happens to be titled, The Territorial Imperative.  Ardrey defines it as 'an area of space, whether water, earth or air which an animal defends as an exclusive preserve'. University of Victoria psychology professor Robert Gifford adds, “Most of the time most people claim a space and others tacitly agree to it.”

 

Margaret said that when someone hasn’t shown up for a few classes, people notice and ask each other if they know what happened to that person.  “Who?” others say.  “You know, the short lady with the long blond hair.”  No one remembers her.  Then, someone points to the spot where she always sits – behind Ruth.  “Oh, her.” See? She is identified by “her spot”.

 

We humans like routine.  We will gravitate to the same spot/place in a higher education class, a fitness class, exercise machines in the gym, pew in church, seats on excursion buses or tours, restaurants or cafes (when us “guys” go out to breakfast at our favorite breakfast cafe, we always sit at the same table), seats in a bar, tables on a river cruise, conference rooms, seats on a commuter train (advice, do not try this on a New York City subway train or bus), even unassigned parking spots.  Most (all?) of us will choose a seat or a table or a spot when we begin that class, or fitness class, or gym exercise machine and try for the same one, same routine, every day and then one day……….just as its time for your favorite elliptical, a stranger is using YOUR elliptical. 

 

Why? The frontal lobes of your brain get it started.  It probably comes as no surprise that humans are creatures of habit. If you perform the same behavior a few times in a row then a habit is formed, meaning that the action or response becomes automatic. Our repeated behaviors literally become imprinted into our neural pathways. Every time we are consistent in behavior in a certain context, like every time we sit at the same “spot”, the link in our brain between the action and the context becomes stronger.  That’s why habits are difficult to break. We usually develop habits that make us feel secure and comfortable, and so attempting to go against those habits is actually going against the way you’ve wired your frontal lobes. So, every time you sit down in the same “spot”, the more likely your brain is to automatically sit you down in in exactly the same place when you come back. As Aristotle said, “We are what we repeatedly do”.

 

This behavior is an expression of “territoriality.” Territoriality is a spatial organizing mechanism that expresses itself in some interesting ways.  Usually, territoriality is thought of in terms of aggression and defense, such as when nations or gangs or Zumba participants fight, but actually its most common purpose is to keep the peace,” according to Robert Gifford.

 

You are probably stuck in your ways when it comes to seating preferences. Do you always sit in that same chair when you enter a conference room, select the same treadmill at the gym (now known as a fitness center), or choose the same side of the plane when pre-selecting a seat? Author’s note: While writing this I realized that I always choose seats on the left side (facing front) of the plane. Do you try to choose the same table at your usual coffee shop?   Do you get annoyed when someone is using your “favorite” stall in the bathroom at the office? Yes, people really have favorite stalls.

 

We’ve gone from frontal lobes to territoriality and now to environmental psychology in seconds.  Gifford found that most university and high school (if given the choice) students choose the same seat over and over. Their behavior reflects the act of developing small personal territories around a seat, which makes them feel more comfortable. He also observed that even if students can’t “personalize” their space and defend it against the invasion of other users when they are absent,” they still sat in the same place when present. He concluded that the choice of the same seat helps students gain control of their environment and achieve academic and personal goals with minimal interference. Once you’ve chosen a seat on the first day of classes, you’re more likely to continue using that same seat. One evolutionary reason for this is because it’s “safe ” according to Beth Brunmeir writing in Just So You Know.  By sitting in that space originally and not finding any glaring issues, you have confirmed that the spot you are in is unlikely to produce a bad situation. If you sat by the open window the first day and a bee flew in an harassed you, then day two will require a change…….or, you could just close the window.  We humans look for situations that are familiar and secure, and if the space has not caused negative consequences in the past, it can guarantee some degree of safety. Sometimes it may be the same room but a different subject class and the student will look for that same familiar seat used in the other class.  A study by Gilles Clement of Lyon Neuroscience Research Center and Angie Bukley of International Space University wished to determine how fast students settle into a specific seat location—if they do at all. They studied students’ seat selection in a lecture hall over two academic programs for 19 and 44 days. Their findings demonstrated that students start settling into their preferred seats starting from the second day of class, and by the end of the first month in the longer course, almost all of the students were sitting in the same seat every time. Kennedy Horton, a college sophomore described an experience, “Recently, I got to one of my English classes a little later than usual (but still on time). I walked in and a girl was in my unassigned assigned seat. I didn’t know what to do. The way I saw it, I had only three options. I could leave the class, suck it up and just sit somewhere else, or throw her and the desk out of the window. My heart ached for latter, but I stayed. It was the angriest 75 minutes of my life”, she said. 

 

Two-thirds of Americans are obsessive about one thing in particular in their homes – their spot on the couch. Author’s note: I disagree as I believe that a favorite side of the bed could be 99%. Anyway, a recent study of 2,000 people found that 66 percent admitted to having unofficial assigned seating throughout their homes. Conducted by OnePoll the survey revealed that most Americans would feel uncomfortable sitting anywhere else but their favorite spot. A quarter of participants added they’d politely claim the spot and ask an intruder to move, just like Sheldon did in the TV show, Big Bang Theory.  

 

By the 2^nd day of our annual “escape from winter in the Poconos” to Hilton Head Island we had our spots in the living room of our rental home just like at home.  Margaret claimed her spot and I plopped down at the other end of the couch and that became my spot.  And  - that was where we sat when at “home” (aside from guests) for the next two months. And no, we don’t kick guests out of our “spots”, nor do we glare at them.  However, a subtle strategy such as asking the guest who is sitting in “your seat” to go get to a beverage and then jumping into that spot when they leave the room works sometimes.

 

We used to sit in the same pew in church every week. When we would arrive and find someone in our pew, we would have to find alternative seating. So, get there early on Christmas and Easter. This alternative seating, in turn, was someone else’s “seat” probably setting off a chain reaction possibly including some non-Christian thoughts by some. Years later, I attended early morning services at a different church.  Always sat in the back row (don’t we all?).  For various reasons, I missed a couple of months.  When I returned, people were sitting in “my “pew. No worries, there was plenty of room, so I sat at the other end of the pew.   A few minutes later some people arrived and said pointedly to the people in “my” pew.  “Oh! You didn’t save our seats”. I considered their behavior to be “pewtrid” and I presume they sat somewhere else to pray.  If you move to a new town or city, as a new member of a congregation, it is sometimes a bit intimidating trying to find a pew to sit on, for fear of taking someone’s “assigned” seat. 

 

Clearly, if you sit in or take someone else’s spot/space it will set off a chain reaction as people move to someone else’s “spot” and they move to someone else’s’ “spot” and …….  Apparently, fitness classes can turn into petri dishes of chain reactions or even war zones. You can have “the regulars” pointing at someone, while muttering “that new person took my spot” followed by silent seething.  “Next week, I’ll come in earlier to reclaim my spot.” If you make this reductio ad absurdum, people could arrive as early as the night before to maintain possession of their “territory”. One might call the phenomenon, “Spot Identification”, in which rather than names, people are identified by their usual places. So we may hear:  “She sits by the radiator”. Or, “that woman with the short brown hair who sits by the wall”. Or, “she knew it was Ellie’s spot at the front left, but took it anyway”. This might get confusing if there are multiple Ellies present.   “Which Ellie?”  “The Ellie who sit’s next to Carol”. “Oh”…….”Which Carol (there may be multiple Carols)? “The Carol who comes late every week”. As Margaret related to me one day. “Betsy said (in identifying a certain woman), ‘you know that person over here?” “But Margaret didn’t know the “person over here “because (as she explained), she’s in the front and I’m in the back”. Although, to be fair, occasional outbreaks of altruism can feature “Oh, this is your spot? You can have it.” So, they move and take someone else’s spot. It can get very tiring if you think about it because then one has to exercise after all of this.  Heaven forbid that you miss a class and your friends can’t wait to tell you about someone. You ask “Who?”  “The person who took your spot. Now she’s over there in Judy’s spot”. One December, a Christmas Tree took Margaret’s spot. She arrived on time as usual, walked to her spot and there was a fully decorated Christmas Tree standing in her spot. Clearly, she would have to take another spot but then this was someone else’s spot and they would take another spot and it set off that chain reaction. And, as Margaret explained the protocol to me - “the regulars” respect a spot so, if someone is absent, no one will take her spot. It’s sort of like a military formation honoring the lost plane or ship with an empty space.  “We never know which of us will start the chain reaction. But one of us will”…….Colin Beavan

 

Evidently Zumba classes can resemble the Oklahoma Land Rush.  As soon as the door to the room opens there is a charge to be in the front of the room.  Arguments can occur. Settled by dueling Merengue  steps at 10 paces?  Yoga classes can also precipitate a crisis. There you are in a safe spot in the yoga room. It feels good relaxing to practice in the same spot every day or week.  You’re close to your friends.  Yoga is silence and meditation.  Then come the inconsiderate nitwits, who invariably arrive late and proceed to talk…..loudly……..and will always plant themselves  near you and you are no longer “safe”. They are not identified by names but merely as “the loud one(s)". Eventually, it may cost you your spot. You have to move …….chain reaction. “The soul becomes prudent by sitting and being quiet. “…… Aristotle reminds us. 

 

So, we continually choose the same seats wherever we are and whenever we get the chance but why do we get upset when people take them from us?

One evolutionary reason for this, as we’ve noted, is because it’s “safe” and by moving to a new seat/spot we’re losing that feeling.  By sitting in that space originally and not finding any glaring issues, you have confirmed that the spot you are in is unlikely to produce a bad situation.  Humans look for situations that are familiar and secure, and if the space has not caused negative consequences in the past, they can guarantee some degree of safety. And then someone takes it away from you and upsets your equilibrium.  

Of course, we have to mix things up every once in a while, to continue to evolve, but especially in situations around strangers or the unknown.  We’re more likely to strike up a pattern of familiarity, like choosing the same seat, to feel some degree of safety. As we said, we are habit forming creatures and habits have to start somewhere so why not with a seat or place?

 

And then there is the tour bus or van which can be a minefield for potential seating kerfuffles.  In the absence of reserved seating, experience indicates that on most tour buses people almost always take the same seats for the entire trip be it a day or a week. They may have lined up early, pre-boarding, in order to get seats on a particular side or right in front of the bus. On many trips, the bus is locked or attended at each stop, so people are told they can leave things at their seats (water bottles, jackets, umbrellas, etc.) thus claiming their territory. Kerfuffle alert there are “spot/seat thieves”, and it can be very awkward to have to retrieve your belongings when someone else had taken the seat you had previously occupied.  Or, you may silently seethe or progress to be grouchy to plotting how to get the seat back at the next stop. However, when someone comes back late and delays the entire bus at multiple stops - that is idiocy, not a territorial imperative and their seats should be up for grabs, especially if they are in a prime location. Travel experts remind us that if there is NO assigned seating. It is first come, first seated if there are no personal belongings on the seats. Personally, I don’t care what the “experts say”. Once I sit there, it is “my spot” and I’m annoyed if it has been purloined.    

 

The territorial imperative can even occur in an airport boarding area. You and your carry-on bags are planted there, it has become your seat. if you leave the seat for refreshments or a call to nature, that seat is the first one you look for when you return to the waiting area. If it is vacant, it’s yours’s again, otherwise the next one you choose will become your seat.  

 

People like to have order. Balance of life, stress and indecision make it an easy to want some things to always be the same. It's just comforting to know you don't have to think about some things - they are always the same.  Sleeping on the same side of the bed. Sitting in class. Familiar things. We like to have order in life when there is so much disorder. We like routine and familiarity and repeating certain behaviors makes us feel safer and more secure. When you sit in the same seat, not only are you interacting with your environment, but you are also creating a personal territory. You do this unconsciously as we’ve said, for many reasons.  Mostly this helps you control the environment around you, especially if you feel out of place, which then helps you achieve goals with little interference. Although sometimes you can go too far with the territorial imperative.  While researching for this essay, I looked up the term “spot possession” on the internet and someone noted while referring to spot possession, “As a psychiatrist, I diagnose mental illness. Also, I help spot demonic possession.” 

Thus, the Territorial Imperative for all the reasons listed above and all the reasons yet to come and all the research about frontal lobes and environmental psychology can be summed up as “because I always sit there”.

 

Sources

 

https://jsyk.wordpress.com/2017/03/21/why-do-we-always-sit-in-the-same-seats/

 

https://qz.com/1349508/the-psychology-behind-why-you-always-want-to-sit-in-the-same-seat

 

https://medium.com/@wpdantes/why-do-i-choose-to-sit-in-the-same-spots-all-the-time-d52c27e07637

 

The Territorial Imperative 

 Robert Ardrey

Presidents Day

 

It’s Washington’s Birthday. Not Presidents’ Day.

 

How Did George’s and Abraham’s Birthdays morph into President’s Day?  Presidents' Day is not the official name of the holiday. While the name “Presidents' Day” was proposed for this Monday holiday in 1951, the U.S. government never officially changed the name. In the 1980s, thanks to advertising campaigns for holiday sales which feature actors dressed as Washington and Lincoln selling cars and mattresses and kitchenware.  We are also treated to  advertisements for discounts on appliances, blue tooth noise canceling headphones and Martha Stewart Towel Collections using the names of our 1st and 16th presidents to entice you to purchase. All of the above have over the years insinuated themselves into the public consciousness and became popularized and largely accepted.

 

Once upon a time, February contained two holidays - Abraham Lincoln’s Birthday on February 12 (1809), and George Washington’s Birthday on February 22, 1732. Washington’s Birthday was a national holiday per an 1879 act of Congress.  Lincoln’s birthday was never a national holiday but was celebrated as a state holiday in many states........although not many in the South. There have been several attempts in Congress to get Lincoln his own national holiday, but none have succeeded. Now, more states celebrate Black Friday (the day after Thanksgiving) than Lincoln’s birthday. In fact, as of 2023, 18 states have days off for state employees for Black Friday.

 

In 1971, the Uniform Monday Holiday Law shifted the celebration of several federal holidays from specific dates to a series of predetermined Mondays. Now, thanks mostly to retail sales, Presidents' Day is popularly viewed as a day to celebrate all U.S. presidents, past and present. The Uniform Monday Holiday Act also included a provision to combine the celebration of Washington’s birthday with that of Abraham Lincoln which fell on February 12.  Lincoln’s Birthday had long been a state holiday in places like Illinois.

 

 So, almost everyone now refers to the holiday as “Presidents’ Day” and consider it a day honoring all American presidents.  However, neither the Uniform Holidays Act nor any subsequent law changed the name of the holiday from Washington’s Birthday to Presidents Day. This holiday is designated as “Washington’s Birthday” in section 6103(a) of title 5 of the United States Code. 

 

George Washington’s Birthday was first declared a federal holiday in 1879 by an Act of Congress. While it may seem like the entire nation observes “Presidents’ Day,” Virginia, Illinois, Iowa, Florida, and New York specifically recognize the third Monday in February as “Washington’s Birthday” or “George Washington Day." Some states, such as Virginia, his home state, celebrate Washington’s birthday the entire month of February. In the city of Laredo, Texas, an annual Washington Birthday Celebration that began in 1898 also lasts the entire month although the schools are not closed, we presume.

 

Washington’s Birthday officially honors the life and work of the first president of the United States. The celebration of his birthday began during the last year of his presidency in 1796. February 22 became a time to honor Washington, though informally, until 1880, a year after it was made the first federal holiday to honor a person by the Forty-fifth Congress.

 

Since it is now referred to as “President’s Day” and we honor all of our presidents, although we have yet to see Franklin Pierce selling cars, we present some vitally important information to share with your friends about some selected presidents.

 

·      Millard Fillmore #13 (1850-1853) refused an honorary degree of Doctor of Civil Law from Oxford, saying, "No man should accept a degree that he cannot read.” Fillmore always carried a dictionary in his pocket. Fillmore was the last Whig president. The party’s attempts to re-brand itself as The Toupée Party failed and they ultimately would join the newly formed Republican Party.

·      James Garfield (1881) was ambidextrous and multilingual, and he was able to write in Greek with one hand and Latin in the other at the same time.

·      Presidents John Adams #2 (1797-1801 and Thomas Jefferson #3 (1801-1808) both died hours apart from each other — on the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1826

·      Jefferson, #3 invented the swivel chair to make work more comfortable.

·      Adams #2 (1797-1801) and wife, Abigail, named their dog, “Satan”.

·      George Washington’s #1 (1789-1797) dentures were not made of wood, but rather of ivory, gold, and human and animal teeth, among other materials. 

·      John Quincy Adams #6 (1825-1829) only agreed to speak with Anne Royal, the first woman to interview a president, after she commandeered his clothes during one of his daily baths in the Potomac River.

·      James Polk (#11) was the first president to retire after one term and not seek re-election. Polk had promised not to run for a second term and claimed to have achieved his major policy goals after four years.

·      Zachary Taylor #12 (1849-1850) is the only president whose remains were exhumed when a medical examiner tested for poisoning in 1991. After reviewing the results, the examiner determined that he had not been poisoned. It was cholera morbus, a bacterial infection of the small intestine. Also, “Old Rough and Ready “never voted in an election prior to being on the ballot himself.

·      Andrew Jackson #7 (1829-1837): Once killed a man in a duel. The deceased was Charles Dickenson who had insulted Jackson’s wife.  Dickinson was regarded as one of the best shots in America. Jackson was a fearless soldier. The future president survived Dickinson's first shot, but Jackson's pistol jammed. In a breach of the “code duello”, Jackson re-cocked his pistol and killed Dickinson.

·      Ulysses S. Grant #18 (1869-1877) was born Hiram Ulysses Grant, but changed his name because he did not like his monogram, HUG.  Grant was invited to join Abraham Lincoln at Ford’s Theatre on the fateful evening of April 14, 1865, but was forced to decline because he and wife, Julia, made plans to visit their children in New Jersey. In 1872, as President, Grant was pulled over and fined $20 for exceeding the Washington speed limit ... on a horse.

·      James Madison, #4 (1809-1817) was the shortest president at 5’4” and weighed barely over 100 pounds.

·      Grover Cleveland #22 & #24 (1885 – 1889 and 1893-1897) personally answered the White House phone.

·      Franklin D. Roosevelt #32 (1933-1945) was very superstitious and suffered from triskaidekaphobia (aka the fear of the number 13), so much so that he would refuse to travel on the 13th day of any month.

·      Benjamin Harrison #23  (1889-1893):  Was the first president to hire a female White House staffer.

·      Rutherford B. Hayes #19  (1877-1881) was the first to host an Easter egg roll.Richard Nixon’s #37 (1969-1974) favorite snack was cottage cheese with ketchup.

·      Herbert Hoover # 31 (1929-1933) and his wife, Lou, lived in China before he was president; the couple spoke Mandarin together in the White House when they didn’t want to be overheard by staff or visitors.  Hoover was the first president to be born west of the Mississippi River…..Iowa.

·      Gerald Ford # 38 (1974-1977) Gerald Ford was the first president to host a prom.It was for his daughter Susan's school.

·      Eight presidents were born before the United States was a country. The first born in the new republic was Martin Van Buren #8 (1837-1841). Van Buren was born in 1782 in Kinderhook, New York.

·      Our 16th president, Abraham Lincoln, (1861-1865) was the first to be born outside of the 13 original colonies. Lincoln was born in Kentucky. He also shares a birthday with the naturalist, Charles Darwin who was also born on February 12, 1809 in Shrewsbury, England.

·      James Buchanan #15 (1857-1761), was the only president who never married.

·      John Tyler #10 (1841-1845) was the first vice president to become president after a president’s death, succeeding William Henry Harrison as president in April 1841. He is also the president who had the most children with 15 (2 marriages).

·      The first president ever born in a hospital was President Jimmy Carter #39 (in 1924).

·      Calvin Coolidge # 30 (1921-1929) was the only president to be born on July 4. Known as a man of few words and nicknamed “Silent Cal”, Coolidge, replied, “You lose,” to a visitor who bet she could get at least three words out of him.

·      Ronald Reagan #40 (1981-1989) starred in the movie, Bedtime for Bonzo in 1951.

·      Harry S. Truman #33 (1945-1953) had a middle initial but no middle name.

·      And lastly, a question for you. Which state has produced the most presidents?

·      Of course, you knew it is Ohio with eight presidents: William Henry Harrison, Ulysses S. Grant, Rutherford B. Hayes, James Garfield, Benjamin Harrison, William McKinley, William Howard Taft and Warren G. Harding

 

Enjoy your Washington’s Birthday.

 

 

 

Sources:

 

https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/49694/45-odd-facts-about-us-presidents

 

https://www.cavalierdaily.com/article/2024/02/top-10-tidbits-you-didnt-know-about-us-presidents

 

https://www.mountvernon.org/george-washington/facts/the-truth-about-presidents-day#:~:text=However%2C%20Presidents'%20Day%20is%20not,became%20popularized%20and%20largely%20accepted

 

Dog Walking – Notes from a Non-Dog Owner

John Cafarella

 

Walkin' the dog

Just a-walkin' the dog

If you don't know how to do it

I'll show you how to walk the dog

C'mon now, c'mon, c'mon…..Rufus Thomas

 

A few years ago, Margaret’s sister, Barbara and her husband Richie took a cruise around the southern tip of South America.  It was a 3-week voyage during February. Ostensibly, that made it summer down there but it is close to Antarctica, which is as we know, cold. They live in North Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. We gladly offered to watch their golden retriever, Lexi, while they were gone as February weather in the Poconos is less than scintillating…..probably more like Antarctica.   February weather in North Myrtle Beach is - big surprise - considerably more appealing to us. 

We don’t have a dog. Many of our friends and relatives have dogs. We like their dogs.  We get along with them.  We give them treats.  We pet them, scratch their backs and bellies, if offered, and then leave them to their owners.  The dogs like us, especially the treats.  We do not take care of them and all that goes with dog care and maintenance. Now we would be taking care of Lexi for three weeks.  My fervent hope was that she would not die while in our care.  Of course I didn’t share this secret hope with anyone. Feeding her would be fine as we got there a few days before Barbara and Richie left and observed the feeding procedures and daily routines.  Petting and giving her attention would be fine. Lexi loved both.  We liked Lexi. Lexi like everybody. The principal concern was walking her. Walking her would involve picking up her poop.  Golden retrievers are not small dogs. I absolutely refused to do the doggie bag pick up method which involves inverting the bag over your hand, grabbing the poop, note -it’s warm, and pull the bag down over your hand. Tie the bag securely while holding the leash in your other hand.  If the dog poops early in the walk you have to carry the bag around with you, usually with fingers on or near the knot. When you complete the walk your mission is only partially accomplished.  You must then dispose of the bag in a designated trash can or pet waste disposal container. One does not flush pet waste down the toilet; it can overwhelm wastewater treatment systems. Forgetting to bring poop bags can be an issue for us non-dog owners.  I would come to learn in the future that the pros attach a dispenser to the leash for convenience. 

I opted for the pooper scooper as it would provide a comfortable distance between me and the canine deposit. I wondered who was responsible for this wonderful technological advance with clamps and a long handle that keeps you mercifully separated from the dog product? There is a bit of a dispute as to who invented the pooper scooper. Brooke Miller, a Californian, receives most of the credit for the revolutionary invention. However, Sam Gorwitz invented the first pooper scooper, called the "Scoo-Pup," in 1957. Gorwitz did not patent his creation. Miller patented the first long-handled pooper scooper, named the “Pet Butler” in1972. U.S. Pat. No. 6,196,600 B1.  This device was designed to make dog poop pick up more efficient and sanitary, eliminating the need for the user to bend over or physically touch the waste. The design featured a rake-like edge on a stick and a hatch for attaching a bag.  The term "pooper-scooper" became a common term in dictionaries in the early 1970s.

We are an innovative society so naturally, over the years, the pooper scooper has seen numerous upgrades and modifications, each aimed at making dog poop pick up easier, more hygienic, and more eco-friendly although it will never be pleasant. Scoopers now come in different sizes to accommodate various breeds so therefore a wide variety of pooper scoopers available in the market. These range from the classic rake and pan sets to high-tech gadgets that make dog poop pick up a breeze. Pun intended. Some modern scoopers even come equipped with features like antimicrobial coatings, LED lights for nighttime use, and collapsible designs for easy transport. I went on Amazon, where else, and picked out a fairly basic pooper scooper for Lexi’s walks. I would learn, the hard way that the inside crook of the elbow, the cubital fossais is also vital to the art of successful pooper scooping

Armed with a leash, my pooper scooper and a plastic shopping bag from the local supermarket for the post poop transfer from the scooper to a safer, less aromatic container, I was prepared to take my place among the legions of dog walkers of the world, or in this case, North Myrtle Beach.  I quickly discovered a problem. I had one hand and arm for Lexi on the leash and another hand and arm for the scooper. I could hold the leash on my forearm and use the two hands to extract the fecal stuff from the grass. However, I would then have to deposit the poop in the plastic bag. You may recall that I mentioned Lexi liked everyone she met. She was a gentle, friendly dog.   There were two exceptions, trucks and golf carts. I have no idea why, but she immediately switched from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde, lunging and barking madly like the Hound of the Baskervilles when either passed us as we were walking and sniffing (Lexi, not me), in the grass at the side of the road. When this occurred, usually as I was in mid-poop extraction or poop depositing in the bag, things turned slapstick. Dog lunging, trying to attack and snapping at the offending vehicle - recall she was large, and me trying to control the poop, the scooper and the bag and……I’m glad no one was filming this.  I quickly learned to prepare when a I saw or heard a truck approaching and had Lexi firmly leashed. Golf carts were another matter.  They are quiet and I didn’t hear them. They are also slow moving so it would be a while until they passed to enough distance that Lexi decided we were safe and the wrestling match would come to an end. Lexi and I survived the three weeks as did the pooper scooper although I came to hate trucks and especially, golf carts as much as Lexi.

A few years later, there would be another adventure with canine care, and this would involve the dreaded doggie bag.  The modern dog poo bag emerged in the 1970s, not in a design studio, but as a public health intervention. First in the UK, then in parts of the US and Germany, municipalities began issuing free bags to encourage dog owners to pick up after their pets, a radical shift from the previous norm of simply… looking away, watching the sky, checking one’s watch, or pretending nothing occurred.  I still witness this kind of behavior occasionally when the dog walker thinks no one is looking. Here in the Pocono Mountains, it is not much of a problem. We are rural. We are surrounded by woods.  The dog, like every animal that lives in the woods, can be allowed to poop in the woods………Although there is the occasional exception to the animal fecal disposal   “woods rule”. One day, a bear made a very large deposit on the welcome mat at our front door.  This took the concept of welcome too far. We’re pretty sure it was a bear. Raccoons have pooped on our deck in the past.  This was bigger than raccoon poop. It was a veritable poonami! Margaret discovered it when she walked out of the door and stepped in it. Her exclamation of surprise and dismay immediately morphed into an exclamation of disgust. She hopped around on one leg until she could remove the contaminated shoe. The mat, no longer welcome, would be thrown away.  The area was washed down with disinfectant. The afflicted shoe would be hosed down…..several times…..and left outside to dry. We related the story to our neighbors, Jan and Kelley, both dog owners.  It turned out that Jan has a book for animal poop identification. Recall, these are the Poconos. Kelley is afraid of bears and so is on the lookout for bear poop when she walks her dog.  We consulted Jan’s book but It was difficult to identify the attacking scat as, alas, Jan had no pictures of foot mashed poop. Kelley accused Margaret of “destroying the evidence”. We’re fairly certain that the culprit was a bear as the deposit was very large, even in a semi-squashed state with a shoe print in the middle.  

We leave turd laden welcome mats and return to poop bags. At first, the bags were nothing more than flimsy grocery bags with a new purpose. But over time, they evolved. Dispensers appeared in parks. Rolls were designed to fit in branded canisters. And the bags themselves would even come in an assortment of designer colors.  Black is for discretion and green works for eco-guilt relief. I’ve read that there is pink, haven’t seen it, that would be for the anarchists or Barbie fans.  In 1907, after Teddy Roosevelt got tired of cleaning up his dog’s loose droppings from their walks, he’d carry a pocket-sized bag for that purpose and others followed suit. After WWII, dog poop bags became more and more popular, especially with women. They’re always ahead of the curve. Soon many pet owners, but not enough if you’ve noticed sidewalks, particularly urban sidewalks, keeping a stash for quick clean-ups on walks.

Recently, Margaret’s sister, Ann, had knee replacement surgery.  We went down to Pleasantville, New York to stay with her for a week or so as she went through those initial very difficult and very painful days. Ann has a dog.  Her name is Sophie and she is an affectionate, friendly black, “Heinz  57 varieties”, 40-pound rescue pooch.   Ann would not be able to walk Sophie for a while following the surgery.  I would.  Sophie was returning from a couple of days at “doggie day care” pre-Ann’s surgery and we were all home waiting for her.  Everyone was happy. Sophie is well trained and alerts Ann when it is time to go out for a walk and do her business.  At 1:00 a.m. that first night Sophie needed to go out. Margaret and I heard the sounds of Ann and Sophie moving around.  Ann, who could barely walk was standing in her kitchen, leash in hand.  She didn’t wish to disturb us. How she would get down and up the 14 stairs would be impossible. I walked Sophie.  We was agreed that whenever Sophie needed to go out, whatever time, Ann would knock on our bedroom door and I’d take her out.  Ann does not have a pooper scooper. She has lots of doggie bags. Out went Sophie and I.  Me, barely awake and Sophie with what turned out to be diarrhea. There we were in the dark of night with me trying to find her liquidy deposit in the grass and pick it up with what was my first attempt at doggie bagging.  I wished that doggie bags had the LED lights that some pooper scoopers have. This was my first experience with the inside out, pick up, and inside out and knot method of poop removal.  Even with my cubital  fossais coming into play for holding the leash while I did the knotting gymnastics, things did not go well. It was dark couldn’t find the stuff. I estimated where it must be. I think I got some, but I came up empty with a few grabs also. I did the best I could but I’m sure I didn’t get all of it.  The ratio of liquid poop in the bag to the time it took Sophie to poop did not match.  Ann lives in a condo development, i.e, civilization.   One does not leave poop lying around. The trash and recycling containers are in a garage-like building with a garage-like door.  Think 2-car garage. The automatic door makes a loud unearthly noise that sounds like an extended “skeeeraucnch” as it opens and closes.  This is where one deposits dog deposits. Biodegradable bags are now commonplace. I was not going to subject the neighborhood to that skeeruanching at what was now 1:30 a.m. so there I stood. Dog on leash and diarrhea, filled poop bag in hand. What to do? Sophie and I and poop bag returned to Ann’s and I put the bag outside on her deck for later retrieval.

At 4 a.m., Sophie had to go again.  Out we went.  This time I cleverly maneuvered her to grass under a streetlight so I could see the mess.  Unfortunately, Sophie must not have liked the product of her efforts, and she immediately began kicking the grass with her hind legs thus scattering the ordure before I could perform the inside out poop bag trick. Fortunately, I wasn’t directly behind her.  Again, I gave it my best but hey, it was still very dark and I couldn’t find it all since it was all over the place.  I estimated distance and calculated direction and picked up enough, I think, to ease my conscience. We returned to the house, and this poop bag joined the previous one on the deck.  I was sure no one would be sitting out on the deck at 4:15ish. At 6 a.m. we were back at it.  There sure was a lot of stuff in that dog! By now I was becoming proficient at doggie bag inside outing and apparently Sophie was running out of poop.  It was still too early for the screeching garage door so out onto the deck it went. Later that morning the landscapers appeared riding their lawn mowers.  That would take care of the items I missed in the middle of the night.  I wondered if I should alert them to the presence of some dog excreta in the grass. My conscience bothered me but not too much so I kept quiet. Of course, I wouldn’t want to be behind them as they rode around,  

The next time you find yourself struggling for another word for poop and turd won’t cut it, use excrement. You’re probably already familiar with the word excrement, which means “waste matter discharged from the body, especially feces.” The  word comes from a Latin word, excramentum, literally “something excreted”?. Excrement is first recorded in English around 1525–35 and is a good way to describe what goes on when you visit the toilet.  Other synonyms come to mind.  Take ordure for example. The word, which means “dung, manure, or excrement”, or fertilizer is found as early as 1300–50, and comes from Old French word for “filthy,” in turn from Latin word horridus (“horrid”). If you’re out and about or in a dog park, you can say “that odor is ordure”. Just never say you wish to ordure from a menu in a restaurant. Then there is scat, the excrement of an animal. Many of us, most recently,  Margaret have stepped in scat by accident.   The word scat first became used by those who had stepped in it around 1925–30, but its origins are obscure. It could be connected to the Greek word skar (“dung”) because I’m sure that the Greeks stepped in the stuff too. As for the word feculence, if you’ve been or near a Porta Potty that is overdue for a cleaning you’ve smelled feculence. Derived from the Latin word faeculentus, meaning “full of dregs,” the word feculence dates back to 1425–75.   If you come across ancient or aged poop, you can add the word coprolite to your vocabulary. This works for weeks old poop as well as dinosaur poop. Coprolite is poop that is so old it has completely hardened and lost any trace of smell. Coprolite is probably  the best kind of poop there is. And also, as a public service, the Poop Deck on a ship is a term used in nautical terms for a raised platform on the stern (rear) of a ship located at the vessel’s aft. The poop deck provided captains with a critical vantage point to navigate the boat and oversee the ship’s crew. It has nothing to do with the poop that is subject of today’s discussion. 

Unfortunately, for the rest of our stay with Ann, I was not dealing with coprolite, but we were able to take Sophie’s usual morning, afternoon and evening strolls.  Ann was very concerned about the diarrhea and so all of our walks would feature a debriefing afterwards on the state of Sophie’s poop. “Liquidy” “semi solid”, “well formed – looks like , “got it all in one grab”.  With daylight I was able to dispose of the accumulating poop bags on the deck as “skeeeraunch” the garage door opened away went the bags.

At 1:30 a.m. the next night, Sophie’s diarrhea returned. Out we went. I was becoming competent at putting on her harness and leash.  It was a warm, dry, night thank goodness.  Sophie didn’t wait long to empty her bowels.  Ann had alerted me that as soon as the drop was complete, I should pull her away from the scene of the crime so the backwards scratching of the grass would not result in poop dispersal.  I did so but in the dark, I lost site of the deposit.  I was pretty sure where it was so I did inside/out doggie bag. Unfortunately, I wasn’t directly on the stuff and some got on the outside of the bag when I turned it inside out and consequently got on my left hand as I tied the knot. It was dark but if felt like there was quite a bit of it on my hand as the aroma and squshiness and warmth alerted me to my missed grab. I extended my left arm straight out as far from my body as possible but  a breeze provided a constant aromatic reminder of my pickup miscalculation.  So there I was at 1:45 a.m. walking Sophie with my right hand holding the doggie bag and her leash nestled in my cubital fossais while my left arm extended at a 90 degree angle as if I was making a left turn. Fortunately, there were neither humans nor dogs out at that hour. Skeeeeraunch garage door was not an option and I would have to return to Ann’s house and somehow open her door with one hand holding the dog and punching her keypad and then open the deck door with that hand while keeping my offending left had a safe distance from the door and the wall. It took a very long time to scrub my hand clean. Perfume couldn’t have a stronger or more lingering aroma than Sophie diarrhea induced fecal deposit fragrance. I occasionally sniffed my left hand as I lay in bed just to be certain. Sleep eventually came.

At 6:30 we were back out again but dawn had broken, and it was easy to sight her leavings.  Thankfully, Sophie’s diarrhea began to ease.  We slowly left the states of liquid and gas and returned to the states of solid and gas. We had all three states of matter covered over two days. Sophie and I continued our walks and debriefs on the status of the poop which seemed to be rounding into shape (pun intended) with each evacuation.  “It’s more poop shaped”. “Good”.  Said Ann, and on to “looking poopish.” Finally, the next day, we had a “textbook poop”.   By then I had also learned the lay of the land at the Foxwood development, and we had walking routes similar to the ones Ann usually used. Foxwood is a large condominium development, and it has lots of sidewalks and grass and a few trails through “woods”.  A complete loop was just about a mile.  I was also beginning to recognize other dog walkers who seemed to keep a similar schedule. I didn’t like 5:00 – 6:00 p.m. time frame as there were too many dog walkers and dogs for what was evidently the “post work” canine exercise and bowel movement period. Some dogs were quite unfriendly. Sophie was interested in every dog we saw and there was lots of tugging and barking while restraining dog and holding on firmly to poop bag.  I kept her on a short leash and stuck to the lesser populated dog areas.  

Sophie’s leash has an attached poop bag holder. You just pull one out and tear and you’re good to clean up the environment. I had a lot of trouble with the pull and tear part and would tend to yank out two or three at a time and have to shove them back in.  Using the cubital fossais to hold the leash worked well.  Worked well that is until our encounter with two women walking their dogs. The women were on the other side of the street as their dogs walked in the grassy area and waved hello as many dog walkers do.  Their dogs were busy. I waved back.  The women continued staring at me.  I waved again in case they had missed the first wave. They continued to stare.  I looked around. I was the only human there. Then, I looked behind me.  Evidently, when I tore off the doggie bag, I had not torn it off completely.  There on the ground behind we was 6 or 7 feet of unwound but attached doggie bags that gravity had pulled out of the doggie bag container.  It looked like I had lost my small intestine.  I’m not sure how long Sophie and I and the bags had been walking around like that with the trail of doggie bags behind us.  I nonchalantly, yet hastily, gathered the escaped bags into a ball as if it happened all the time.  I didn’t look back at the ladies. We returned to Ann’s.  Poop shape continued to be satisfactorily poop shaped but the entire roll of doggie bags had to be re-wound and put back into the pouch.  Evidently, in a previous, minor unwinding episode I had wound them counterclockwise rather than clockwise. 

A positive result of all these walks was that Sophie got tired out and slept until 7 or 7:30. The negative was that I was awake at 6 waiting for the signal to take Sophie out each day.  After seven days, Sophie went back to doggie daycare for a couple of days.  She was very happy about it. She loves doggie day care and runs to the door to greet the handler. Margaret and I would be leaving in a few days and, while Ann could take Sophie out for a “quickie”, she was not ready for longer walks. After a few days, Ann’s friend, Liz, would walk her.

I am still quite proficient in the art of pooper scooper scooping and I regularly walk our son’s Welsh Terrier when we visit them. If called on I will be able to perform the doggie bag inside outing and tying while holding leash with the cubital fossais while avoiding getting excreta on my other hand. I also casually drop cubital fossais into casual conversation.   I  know how to wind up escaped doggie bags -clockwise- and put them back in the doggie bag pouch while using that essential crook of the elbow. If any of you need assistance with doggie bag winding or pooper scooper maneuvering while dog walking in the future, kindly call someone else.  Thank you.