Imagine a beach. Imagine it from overhead — you’re looking down on a beach. Now, put me on your beach. In your mind, color my field of vision red. This area of red representing my field of vision is the Squeeze Zone. Any dog entering this zone will instantly poop.
1) I see dog. 2) Dog goes potty.
There are no exceptions.
During my first few days in Poland, it didn’t occur to me that a supernatural power was at work here, much less that it flowed from my eyeballs. I mean, nature demands that its creatures poop from time to time, and since dogs don’t have a problem pooping whenever and wherever they want, I’m bound to witness them poop now and again. But after a week or so, I began to realize that I was witnessing nature’s call on canines with hypernormal regularity. As I’ve said, it seemed to work this way:
1) When I see dog, 2) Dog goes potty.
It didn’t seem to matter where I was or who I was with. Neither the weather nor the time of day seemed to play a part. Only one thing seemed to matter: I must see dog. (Dog would then go potty.)
At first, it was funny. The kind of funny that makes you shake your head and think, “is this some kind of joke?” For a while, it was even a kind of cynical game, in my mind. Oh, there’s another dog. He’s sniffing. He’s thinking about it. Is he gonna do it? Surely he will. No? Is he going to break the cycle? Ah, wait…he’s assuming The Crouch. We have a pooper.
This has been going on for ten months, though. It’s not funny anymore. Every dog I see poops. If I’m in the park or on the street and a dog enters the Zone, the dog will poop. If I’m looking out the window of a bus and a dog enters the Zone, the dog will poop. If I’m eating my cereal on my balcony in the morning and a dog enters the Zone, the dog will poop.
Can you imagine watching dog after dog, day after day, squatting and pooping? Do you have any idea how many different hunched backs and quivering bottoms I’ve seen issuing new lengths of poop into my world? Can you fathom how revolting it is to live in such a world as mine?
Maybe you don’t believe me. You wouldn’t be the first. My step-father visited me in January and witnessed my power with his own eyes, yet even he does not believe. He laughed and said, “it’s winter, this is what dogs come outside to do.” In response, I must say that I’ve been here for four seasons. Three of them have not been winter, and yet every dog I’ve seen has pooped. In June, my mother visited me. She, too, witnessed my power, and she found it most amusing, although I’m not sure she really believed in her heart that it was my power making the dogs poop. But because she could see how unhappy I was, she endeavored to help. She said she would break the cycle. I don’t understand what she did or how she did it, but during the second half of her visit (after she decided to break the cycle) I was granted a brief respite. When she left, however, it was as if some sort of dam had broken. I kid you not, I suffered a most revolting bombardment of poop.
At one point, I decided to document this phenomenon in photographs. It wasn’t too difficult to capture my power on film. It was difficult, however, to capture it well. Dogs, unlike churches, are small and mobile. Thus, my Dog- Squeezing photos are about the same quality as a blurry picture of Bigfoot.
I didn’t have Dog-Squeezing before I came to Poland. I hope it’s not some kind of disease I’ve caught. I pray that, when I come home, things will revert to normal. If not, I don’t know how I can go on. No man deserves to suffer like this. Is there some kind of support group for me?