It is interesting to be twenty years apart from the last experience.

The Experience: Stepping in dog poop to the degree that you have to take off the shoe and leave it somewhere for a while.

The Last Time This Happened: I was in an age before memory completely solidified, maybe five. I was being sat by some other kid's family and we went to the grocery store to look at Christmas trees. It was raining. On the way out, I stepped in a dog crotte the size of an eggplant. The thing practically shot up my pants leg and stole my wallet. The best the kid's mom could do was look back and laugh as I stood there panicking.

But Yet, Today: Yeah, I have a dog now. She takes her little Tootsie-Craps on the lawn, and we have this special rake/scooper thing to whisk them away. Only, today the rake caught on something and when it released it flung this little piece of crap between my legs and behind me. I stepped back to find the offensive knob and the heel of my running shoe planted squarely on the thing's soft, glistening carapace. I say "running shoe" to illustrate the extent to which it will be difficult to extricate the feces from the intricate tread.

How is it Different to Step in Crap Now vs. Then: No one was around to laugh at me this time, and unlike the five-year-old me, I have made some headway in the world and am not an unvalidated, snot-nosed wreck all the time.

What am I Going to Do Tomorrow: I am going to leave the soiled shoe on the back deck for the better part of 2005. I'm not the kind of guy who really ever uses shoes again once they've gone tete-a-crotte. I will throw the shoe away when we move to a different house.