Many of us grew up with the popular sing-along song of 99 cans of beer on the wall, and it can be fun or irritating depending on one’s mood. However, when those empty beer cans end up littering the roads and ditches I feel incredibly sad.
My husband and I walk our dog, Booker, along mostly the same country road twice a day. I don’t know who is doing it, but there is constantly a trail of empty beer cans scattered in the ditches. Tad has tried to encourage Booker to fetch, but so far that hasn’t worked. He does, however, sniff them. (Booker sniffs, not Tad.)
This morning, as we walked in the spring sunshine, there seemed to be more beer cans than normal. (And isn’t it sad that I’ve come to think of this as normal?) Disgusted, Tad started cramming them in his pockets until he ran out of space. Then I started jamming them in mine. We sounded like Mr. and Mrs. Tinman coming home, but so be it. The cans were deposited in the recycling bin, and the ditches looked, well, like country ditches once again. But at least they were litter free.
Tonight, four more cans were spaced throughout the ditches. Really? Really? Why do people think it is okay to toss their garbage and leave it for others to deal with? I pointed out the new cans to my husband. Without a single sigh or grumpy comment he continued his pickup efforts. Once an Eagle Scout, always an Eagle Scout I guess. My husband, a man who cares about this planet, is the best part of my day.