Danger in the big city

This is a serious blog and not for your amusement. Sometimes you see signs of a calamity on the streets of Manhattan. Even though you weren't there when it happened, the evidence left behind gives a vivid picture of the horror someone has gone through. You may never meet the victim but the trail of terror is painted on the sidewalks block after block. The city has many laws and safeguards to prevent these human tragedies but it’s never enough. And when you do see it, you start asking yourself the same questions each time. What were they feeling? Were they scared? How did they react to the initial shock? Did they think the horror would ever end? Did they survive the ordeal? These are some of the questions that come to mind. However careful you are, the question that's most important is 'What if it happened to me?'

That’s right, I'm talking about stepping on dog shit. Sure the owners are supposed to pick it up in little plastic bags and throw it away but do they always do that? Hell no. I myself have had several close calls with doggy turds lying in my path like so many claymore land mines. Let us take a moment to think of the victims of that gross negligence. You see first the shitty footprints, then the streaks begin where they've realized what’s happened. The long streaks to scrape stuff off on the pavements, smaller streaks where they've employed the curb or a step for the useful edge. Sometimes a tree will do. Block after block you see the battle carrying on and on. If you follow the brown trail will you find the victim in some corner scared and weeping and smelling like shit? Eventually most of the turd is scraped off but the mental trauma may never heal.