Mustering enough strength, I faced the “unfaceable” and did the unthinkable. I turned around and actually looked at my poop straight on for the first time this lifetime (and perhaps many lifetimes) and to my surprise the sense of humiliation that preceded the event quickly evaporated into thin air. Now I could sense a certain level of curiosity rising within. The child in me woke up!
"Look at that," I remember thinking. "It isn't that bad after all..." Perhaps I even touched it few times with a stick just like a child does when he explores the secrets of the universe through Nature and isn't sure about what he has encountered. "Is it alive?" "Will it jump at me if I poke it?" "Better keep some distance..."
That my poop could look and feel so natural in Nature was actually quite fathomless to me. However, notwithstanding my curiosity, the fact remained that I still had to pick it up. Mustering all the strength I could gather to overcome the 'yuck' factor and that lingering thought that perhaps it could attack in self defense, I placed my hand inside a plastic bag and tentatively reached for it. Not as rewarding as pocking it I must admit. Especially given the fact that I knew I would end up dumping this stinky mess on someone else's dumpster... that is after placing it first in my car and driving around with it until we could find an unmonitored trash can...
To be continued...