on joining a cult

I'm not sure how it happened.  One day everything was normal, but slowly it dawned on me.  I'm in a cult.

Before, people were jerks and ignored you when you passed by on the sidewalk, even when you said hello.  Now, you don't even need to say hello before they smile and start talking in your direction.

Before, I went through life missing the one thing that all members of this cult have.  Now I see them everywhere.

Before, I was able to go on my merry way without having to worry about what I was carrying.  Now I typically am carrying a bag full of something whenever I leave the house in certain company.

No, not a religious cult.  Don't worry.  I'm not about to drink the koolaid.

It's a more sinister cult.  A cult that I unwittingly joined when I became a dog owner.  People smile when they see the puppy jumping and wagging her tail.  Dogs are everywhere, and I can approximately tell their age, at least general stage of life.  I find I'm always carrying a bag of poo for most of my walks.

It was an observation I made shortly after getting Izzie, but now I see it moreso.  I'm not sure if any other dog owners realize they are part of this cult.  But they are.  And there's no way out, it seems.

Sigh.