The Poop on Boo and Mike

In case this is not known, I have rented a room in a house in central Tucson with two other guys: Boo and Mike. Actually, Boo's name is Mike, too, hence Boo instead of Mike (otherwise it'd be Mike and Mike). Oh, lest I forget, two other members of the household are a dog named Thunderation and a cat named Fatass. Thunderation is justifiably suspicious of me, but Fatass and I have bonded in uncharacteristic fashion (I ain't no cat lover!).

I haven't lived with anyone since college "daze", so the bets are on amongst my friends that this livin arrangement will be about as successful as George Bush at a MENSA coffee klatch. Amazingly, despite having little in common, the arrangement has worked well. Well, almost well.

The backyard comprises a kidney-shaped pool, and little else except for a patch of dirt, rock, and grass outside my bedroom window. Soon after moving in I discovered that Thunderation was using this spot for his constitutional. Why me, Lord?! Better yet, the Almighty Thunderation also sees fit to leave sundry turds all over the patio and even on the rim of the pool. [When I checked out the house, it was night and I didn't go out onto the patio which explains why my dog poop alert did not go off.]

I like my room because it has a huge window that looked out over the Rincon mountains to the north, plus I can see the azure sky that typically hovers over this college town. I hadn't anticipated that my room would abut Dog Poop Lane.

So, several times I've told Boo (my contact since Mike either can't speak or chooses not to speak) that the free range dog crap is not acceptable to me and needs to be picked up post-poop and each poop. This is not a negotiable issue for me.

Well, Saturday I went out onto the patio anticipating my first day lying in the sun only to be greeted by a sea of poop. It was like "Attack of the Killer Turds." I suppressed a primal scream. Not only did I exit the patio, but I lost my appetite for the day (which, to be honest, is the "up" side of living with poop).

I came into my room and immediately wrote the following Poop Memo: "Boo and Mike, I've asked you numerous times to please pick up Thunderation's poop. Not only is it a disgusting to look at, but it smells and is creating a sanitation issue. If you continue to ignore my request, I will move out as soon as I can find another place to live. In the meantime, I will clean up the poop if you refuse. I cannot live in squalor and filth."

So, in case anyone reads this, or even cares, am I being unreasonable by asking the dog's owner to be responsible and dispose of Thunderaton's recyclables? I know Tucson is near Mexico, the Third World, but it's NOT Mexico and it's NOT the Third World, so until it becomes so (we only have a few more years, by the way) I prefer to live in the civilized world which by my definition is POOPLESS.

Any comments? Feel free to send Xanax to my Post Office Box.