Filthy Presents

Walkers are often greeted by that most appalling of items- the tied poo bag. Dog owners have evidently gone to the trouble of picking up their hound’s horrid deposit, only to bag it and leave it in a crevice or tied it to a branch. Sometimes they come back on the return leg to bin it or take it home, but I might think this to assure myself they are less obnoxious people than I would like to admit. Unbagged dog muck left in situ is unpleasant, but it will be eventually be washed away where its harm will be reduced. Left in a plastic, it is awarded an immortality it would otherwise be denied. The colourful bags draw our attention to its disgusting contents, marring an otherwise pleasant country stroll. 

Dog ownership is noble, and walking in the countryside is a superb pastime. But wherever humans have been, we leave trails of filth, legacies of evil, heirlooms of filth. We turn forest to desert, garden to concrete, harmony to discord. Little wonder our days on this planet are numbered. It will no be natural apocalypse which culls our numbers, but the personal intervention of a holy God whose patience will be tried no more. 

But the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up. 1 Peter 3:10