Waste Scoopers Say Jobs Are Picking Up; A Changing Landscape
OCEANSIDE, N.Y.—With licks and wags, two huskies, Rocky and Sophie, greet Ron Vecchio at the 10th stop on his Tuesday route. They know that in the four minutes it takes him to flick their backyard droppings into a debris pail, he'll toss them some dog biscuits.
Ron and his wife, Christina, make about 150 stops a week in western Long Island, charging $12 to clean up after one dog once a week, $21 for two dogs twice a week. (click below to read more)
In the decade they've been at it, dog-waste removers have portrayed themselves as punny novelty businesses. Start-ups named Dr. Scoopy Poo, Dog Entremanure, Yucko's, Grand Poobah, Call of Doodie, and their own Mine Sweepers Pet Waste Removal, got lots of you're-not-going-to-believe-this media attention. The recession hurt. Puns went only so far.
But spring snow melts trigger the annual busy season, and the recovery appears to be helping.
"In my experience, less than 5% of people know we exist," says Paul Chesler, the new president of Association of Professional Animal Waste Specialists (APAWS.org), the scoopers' trade group. "This industry is in its infancy." Why?
For starters, since 1960 the U.S. pet dog population has more than tripled to a record 2010 estimate of 78.2 million—more than pigs, sheep, and horses, combined. Only cattle and cats, among domesticated mammals, outnumber canines. At three-quarters of a pound per day on average, waste production per dog comes to 274 pounds a year—or 10.9 million tons dropped on the landscape annually. By some estimates, about half is cleaned up. The rest is opportunity.
Second, spending on goods and services for pets continues to set records. Bob Vetere, president of the American Pet Products Association trade group, forecasts it will hit $50 billion this year, based on the group's latest pet owners survey. That, he says, makes it the eighth largest retail sector—smaller than food and autos but bigger than hardware, toys and candy. Significantly for scooper pros, the 2007-2008 survey asked, for the first time, if dog owners "would be interested" in hiring a cleanup service, and 10% said yes.
"That raised my eyebrows," Mr. Vetere says, because 10% represents 4.5 million households. At a minimum of $12 for a weekly cleanup, that's a market potential of $2.6 billion annually. Vying for it at the moment are an estimated 500 small independents and three national franchisers—Pet Butler, DoodyCalls, and Poop 911.
Jacob D'Aniello, who started DoodyCalls in Charlottesville, Va., in 2000 and began selling franchises in 2004, says, "This is our best year" so far. He claims 2,200 new clients since Jan. 1. and a 20% jump in revenues from last year's first quarter. He estimates that the 36 franchise owners operating in 19 states (who paid $34,500 in fees and 14% in royalties and administrative fees), now make 6,000 cleanup stops a week.
He reports big growth in servicing pet-waste stations installed by homeowners' associations and apartment complexes. He's also starting a cat litter-box swap service.
"My clients have a lawn service, a pool service, probably a maid service, and they have me," says Mr. Chesler, who operates Blue Diamond Pet Waste Cleanup in the Tampa area. "They work hard, have money, and want to enjoy their weekends."
He and others also push their services as a human health benefit. Mr. Chesler says people underestimate the pollution and health hazards of dog waste. Some think it's harmless, or a good fertilizer. It is neither. He emphasized to members of the Massachusetts Environmental Health Association in March that dog waste washes into water bodies and feeds algae blooms that deplete oxygen, cloud water and kill fish and other aquatic life. While some people simply find dog waste disgusting, Mr. Chesler says it can be laced with infectious bacteria such as E. coli and parasites including roundworms and hookworms.
De-worming dogs monthly—instead of the previously recommended annually or quarterly—can greatly lower the infection risk, says Dr. Kevin R. Kazacos, a professor of veterinary parasitology at Purdue University.
Since New York became the first major city to mandate pooper scooping in 1978, cleanup laws have become commonplace nationwide but enforcement is rare. Mr. Chesler says that people often clean up if they think someone's watching, "but at night with a leash in one hand and a flashlight in the other, they'll walk on."
The "yuck factor" both repels and propels cleanups. In 2009, Consumer Reports polled a 1,125-person sample to rank common annoyances. Hidden fees topped the list. Dog poop placed sixth, behind incomprehensible bills and ahead of unreliable Internet service.
"Complaining neighbors with kids who play in the yard are usually the best drivers to get people to clean up," says Geoffrey Bodle, who started Poop 911 in 2005 and now has 30 franchisees making about 2,000 stops per week. "If they don't have time or the stomach for it, they call us."
Mr. Vetere says some pet owners want to be perceived as "green" and know that not cleaning up is "bad manners." Cellphone cameras and videos can catch and shame offenders.
All of which should help pros like Mr. Vecchio. He's fast—in and out of smallish Long Island backyards in two to five minutes, unnoticed except by dogs. He uses a tiny spade with a four-foot handle. It looks like the golden shovel trophy he won collecting the most fake droppings at last year's APAWS convention.
The contest name: Scooper Bowl.
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