Not the dung thing
As Clyde led me for a jog around the lakes at Tervuren today, a thought suddenly occurred. We dog owners are now legally obliged to take with us, visible on the lead, a store of small plastic bags to clear up any mess our dogs might make. This is thoroughly commendable, especially in a city once known as the dog poo capital of the world (sadly, Naples must be in the running for that title now). But what, I suddenly thought, as I dodged a vast, stinking mound, about horseriders? I mean it. Why shouldn’t they dismount and get out a plastic bag (one of the more robust ones sold by supermarkets, I should imagine) and shovel up the mess? I mean, dog poo is dramatic enough but when a horse goes it really does go. All right; you don’t often see a horse in the City Deux gallery but, still…
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