“What season is this anyway?” A visitor asked me a week or so ago. It was during our cold snap that had followed a brief, glorious stint of warm weather.

According to the popular meme, we’re somewhere between the Spring of Deception and the Third Winter. According to scientists, it’s a meteorological spring. According to posts on social media, Strava and my observations of “poop bloom,” it’s decidedly the Fecal Equinox. You know, the time when the snow recedes, and the brown spots are equally likely to be mud or dog waste.

In full disclosure, I have a dog, and I will never claim to be 100% perfect at cleaning up after Bailey. Like most things in my life, I max out at about 90% competence, which is fine for writing, but not so good for plumbing, and borderline acceptable for dog ownership.

In terms of pooper scooping, my lapses primarily occur when Bailey has wandered to precarious spots. Sometimes an errant mess is a better choice than an emergency room visit. But while I am far from perfect, I know I am not one of the biggest offenders.

When I taught middle school, one of my peeves was when students refused to pick up after themselves and their friends. A simple request to throw out a wrapper would evolve into a full-blown game of garbage soccer with each player claiming the trash belonged to the other. This was as true 30 years ago as it is today. This is the companion to the “it’s not my job” comment, which would play out in the following conversation.

“Hey, would you do me a favor and throw out that paper under your feet?”

“No, it’s not my job. That’s what janitors are for.”

Evil glares, steam blowing from my ears and lectures had little effect. The answer was to add a little fun: Trashketball. It is a universal truth that middle schoolers love to toss random things at garbage cans. Simply ask, “Hey, do you think you can make a basket from here with that discarded paper?” and it’s game on. Suddenly, the room would be clean as all the students would compete to make baskets.

My theory is that these kids have grown up to be pet owners. I came to this conclusion as I observed a large pile of waste sitting directly next to a bag dispenser and a garbage can. There was no excuse for this litter, other than laziness and the “it’s not my job” attitude. Determined not to stoop to their level, I scooped and disposed, even though my dog was not the depositor.

While I’ve aspired to be many things, Pooper Scooper Girl is not one of them. The sheer volume that needs to be picked up each spring is beyond one person. And, not surprisingly, it is an issue that exists far beyond our town. National Scoop the Poop Week runs from April 23-29, right after Earth Day. It’s a noble thought, but for it to work, there needs to be volunteers, and who wants to volunteer for poop patrol?

There needs to be a hook, a competition, and some fun. After all, the promise of a good time is always more effective than a public shaming on social media. In terms of competition, a simple race format wouldn’t work, because focusing on speed wouldn’t guarantee pick up. But lots of 5k races require food pantry donations as entry fees, maybe a Pooch Poop Scoot could require some prerace clean up.

Or maybe the race could be part of a festival — The Scoopapalooza. Tourism is an important part of our economy, so a quirky festival might be the ticket. Attract people en masse, and the clean-up would be a cinch. What’s that adage? “Many hands make light work …”

Contests could be modeled after fishing derbies with prizes for size and weight. Of course, big dog owners could easily cheat, but that’s an acceptable risk. We could steal ideas from Stowe, Vermont’s Doodie Day, and award prizes for best team costumes or best homemade scooper. The possibilities are endless.

Concessions would offer themed items. Frozen chocolate treats could be rebranded as Poopsicles … pigs in the blankets could become Pooch Poppers, seasoned tots might become Spicy Turds.

A little live music could feature classics like “You Ain’t Nothing but a Hound Dog” or remakes and parodies like “Highway to Smell” or “Don’t Stop Retrievin.”

Bumper stickers, T-shirts and miscellaneous swag — the vendors would definitely be the Top Dogs. The graphics alone would be memorable, but add slogans like “Doody Calls!” and the merch would trot off the shelf.

Social event, economic boost, and a dog waste-free town. It could be a win, win, win situation.

But, then again, it just might be a “stool-ish” idea.