It's an occupational hazard of living in the country.
It doesn't matter if you are a rancher, farmer, builder, teacher, or preacher.
If you live in the country, you will eventually step in sh!t.
Dog sh!t. Cat sh!t. Cow sh!t. Horse sh!t. Hog sh!t. Goat sh!t. Sheep sh!t. You name it, out in the country, there is a possibility you will step in it.
Sometimes, you don't even realize it, and you drag it into the house with you.
Sometimes, it is evident as you slip on the grass right after the dirty deed.
And when you yell out, "Sh!t!" it is more than just descriptive.
Now, there are various ways of dealing with sh!t.
You can whine and complain about all the sh!t that's around.
You can try to stay inside and on the sidewalks (where they are actually available) so that you don't ever come close to the sh!t.
You can constantly stare at the ground, on your guard at all times, and you can perform pirouette's to avoid sh!t at all costs.
You can spend all your spare time cleaning the sh!t up so that you never step in it--even if that sh!t isn't your own or your pet's or your animals.
You can pay someone to pick up all the sh!t.
Or, you can eventually come to that place where you realize that stepping in sh!t is just part of life. You realize that even though you step in it, there is always a water hose to clean it off. If you track it in the house, there's a mop to take care of it. There's no need to whine or complain or gripe. There's no need to go out of your way to avoid it or make sure it never happens. You accept it and realize that over-reacting doesn't help anyone. It's not that you go around looking for a pile of sh!t to jump into, but you just don't spend a lot of time worrying about it.
Is this story about sh!t an allegory about life?
You tell me.