The Curious Case of Doo on the Loose

In a yard on a street in a quaint little town,

A pup did a squat, and he plopped something down.

“It’s natural!” said Fido, “It’s part of my day!”

Then he trotted off fast and just ran off to play.

But the thing that he left, it was squishy and brown.

Didn’t just sit there... it messed with the town.

On Hot Sunny Days

When the sun shines so bright and the grass starts to bake,

That doo starts to dry like a brown pancake.

It cracks and it crisps, but don’t be deceived

Its germs and its stink are not really relieved.

Though the smell may get faint as it bakes in the heat,

It’s still packed with things you don’t want on your street!

On Rainy Afternoons

Then splat! came the rain—what a thunderous pour!

And the doo said, “Uh-oh... I’m not dry anymore!”

It sloshed, and it swirled, it ran into the drains,

And carried its yuckiness down into plains.

It bubbled with germs. Oh, what a stew!

It made fishes frown, and the algae grew.

“It’s poop-ollution!” the tadpoles cried out.

“Someone, please clean it up!” came the trout's shout.

When the Snow Falls Down

Now winter blew in with a cold snowy blanket.

The poop didn’t move—it just sat like a banquet.

Frozen and firm in its chilly disguise,

It waited ‘til spring for a gross surprise.

Because when that snow melts, what’s hidden returns—

The poop joins the puddles, and water gets churned.

“Springtime!” you say, “Let’s go smell the blooms!”

But the lawn says, “SURPRISE—dog poop perfumes!”

When the Wind Blows

On windy, wild days when the breezes go ZOOM!

Little flecks of dried doo take off with a BOOM!

They swirl in the gusts and they ride on the air,

Till they land on your porch or your picnicware.

“Oh dear!” says Miss May with her sandwich in hand.

“There’s poop dust again on my lemonade stand!”

When It’s Scorching Hot

And when it gets hotter than hot in July,

The poop starts to bubble, no word of a lie.

Its nutrients spill out and seep through the land,

Too much of a good thing for flowers so grand.

It burns up the grass, it chokes the poor tree,

And still no one says, “Hey—this shouldn’t be!”

When the Cold Comes Again

Then the frost rolls around and the poop takes a nap,

But it’s just biding time in its frozen brown cap.

It waits for a thaw with a smirk on its face,

To rejoin the runoff and ruin the place.

So, what can we do? Must we live in doo doom?

Will our parks and our sidewalks all stink and consume?

Here’s the Fix, Straight and True!

Pick up that poop! Don’t leave it to fate.

Just bag it, then bin it—it’s really first-rate!

If every good human with leash and a pup

Just bent down one second to scoop it all up...

The fish would be happy, the air would be sweet,

The water would sparkle, no poop at your feet.

The grass would stay green, the storm drains would cheer—

“No more doggie doo drifting in here!”

So, when Fido looks back with his proud little face,

And leaves behind “business” all over the place,

Just think of this rhyme, and the world you’ll renew

Be a hero today: Pick up the poo!

CoPS on Doody keeps communities clean in Northern Virginia, Washington DC, Metropolitan

Maryland, and Atlanta, GA areas—making sure every neighborhood stays fresh, walkable, and

poop-free.

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