Old Yeller

Why does dog poop smell so much worse right after I step in it?

This is just one of the many, many deep and scintillating thoughts I contemplated last night while I sat atop the riding lawn mower. In actuality, this is where some of my best thinking time takes place. It is my sincere belief that "The Thinker," the famous sculpture by Rodin, would be much more realistic if he were bouncing across a mole-infested lawn, dodging dog toys, poised, deep in thought, upon a John Deere lawn mower with a 42-inch deck.

It takes approximately anywhere between 45 minutes to five-and-a-half hours to mow my yard, depending on such variables as how good of a job I want to do and if something good is on TV. We have a big farmyard with quite a bit of straight-line mowing that lends itself to letting the mind wander. I don't need much help in that area.

Granted, many of the thoughts aren't very intellectual and involve how far something would fly if I hit it with a John Deere lawn mower with a 42-inch deck. But after I derive the answer to that question by hitting the aforementioned stuff with a John Deere lawn mower with a 42-inch deck, my brain tends to settle down and think about much more important things. Such as the dog poop question. If I were to guess, I would surmise that at least seven to eight of every 10 Mensa society members have nice looking lawns.

Maybe it's the smell of freshly cut grass wafting past my nostrils that helps clear my head and puts me into an almost dreamlike, zen state. Or maybe it's the sound of a chopped up garden hose or small to medium size saplings inadvertently finding their way under the mowing deck that frees my subconscious and opens up some area of my brain that usually lies dormant. It's probably the way the seat makes my butt shake that gets the blood flowing.

It didn't used to be that way. When I was a kid, all I thought about while mowing the yard was how much I hated mowing the yard. We had this old yellow push mower. I can't remember what brand it was, but I do remember having to pull the old rip cord on the Briggs and Stratton motor. There wasn't any kind of electric starter or fuel primer button. You just had to monkey around with the choke and keep pulling until it would eventually chug to life. Come to think about it, those might have been some of my first forays into the wonderful world of profanity. Ahhhhhhh ... good times.

I liked to call that lawn mower Old Yeller. Not so much because it was a dear and trusted, faithful, canine-like friend, but because I wanted to take it out behind the barn and shoot it. We had a bunch of what we called water grass that grew in several areas of the yard (and still does to this day), and Old Yeller would tend to clog up a couple hundred times a mowing session. Plus, the kid that lived at my house had a terrible habit of leaving his toys and sports equipment laying around, so I'd have to mow around them, kick them to the side, or just mow them over, depending on the size, price and/or popularity of the toy. That kid was such a jerk.

However, now that I'm worldly and mature, mowing has become something more. Mowing has become almost, dare I say, relaxing. When I mow, I think about scientific questions, American and world history questions, religious and ethical questions, politics, the world of entertainment, trivia, etc. ... Some of my best comic strip ideas have come to me sitting on that torn up yellow seat. I forget most of them because I never have anything to write on. Heck, I thought of writing this column while mowing the yard.

I realize that different people have different ways of thinking. Some ride on a Simplicity or maybe even a Cub Cadet lawn mower. Some probably even ride on one of those fancy-schmancy zero-turn radius mowers. I imagine Albert Einstein had one of those. Maybe we can stick the current presidential candidates' hind ends on a couple of Lawn-Boys and let them consider some of the stuff they've been jabbering about over the past couple days, weeks and months. It couldn't hurt.

I also realize in this world, there are some folks who are under the assumption there are other ways to think about things. There are your car-driving thinkers, your shower-taking thinkers and your toilet-sitting thinkers. However, the more I mow and the more I think about it, all of those people are just wrong. The best ideas come cutting grass.

And in case you're wondering, approximately 5 to 7 feet in a somewhat straight line is how far dried dog poop will fly when you hit it with a John Deere lawn mower with a 42-inch deck. The fresh stuff doesn't go quite as far, but the radius is much larger.

You can contact Wallace at gregwallaceink7@gmail.com. You can follow him on his blog at http://gregwallaceink.blogspot.com.