Stinky, Stenchy Dog Transforms in to Perfumed Pooch
I’m more pleased than he is
Above left — this is ‘Jack’s Gate’. This is Jack staring wistfully from behind his gate out onto the wilderness of his very own prairie.
Above right — this is Jack looking at me beseechingly. “Pleese, pleese, pleese, let me out onto my prairie, Susan. Oh, pleese.”
Oh, all right, then, Jack. I open his gate and he gallops out onto his prairie barking defiance to the morning; daring any local wildlife to answer him back.
I go back into the house to get coffee while he romps around trying to tunnel through the grass, investigating all the smells new since the last time he was out there a few hours ago.
While he’s out there feeling like a new dog, I’m in the kitchen in my early-morning-no-coffee-yet coma waiting for the machine to do its thing. That first coffee takes forever.
I’m suddenly overcome by a stench so strong it’s physical. It’s like a heavy, smelly blanket has fallen out of the sky and landed on me, making my knees collapse, my lungs to shrivel trying not to take in the stinky air.
Gasping for oxygen I struggle to ascertain the source of the foulness.
To my horror, I realise it’s PupperJack. He’s rolled in fox crap and is so delighted with himself that he wants to share it with me.
He is absolutely plastered in it.
I have to stop him touching me. I have to stop myself picking him up to stop him touching me. I have to stop him rolling around in the house. I have to stop him running upstairs and rolling around in MY bed.
I have to breathe. At some point, I have to breathe.
Above left you can clearly see he’s done a good rolling job.
Above right is the unrepentant face of a dog who knows he’s done a good job.
The closest things to hand are pandemic type things so he gets sprayed and thoroughly wiped down with Dettol stuff.
Above right — although the crap has gone it must still be there somewhere because the stench is still right there with us. Laughing at me.
There’s only one thing for it — a bath. And shampoo. Lots of shampoo.
PupperJack is entirely unaware of what’s coming his way because I’ve never bathed him before.
He’s quite interested, though, and wants to know what we’re doing in there. We don’t usually hang out in this room.
What we doin’ in here, then, Susan?
Why’s this little bath full of water?
Oh! Eek!
It’s wet! Susan, it’s wet in here! Did you know it was wet in here???
Arrrghhhh!!! AND a shower-thing, too!
You have really let me down, today, Susan.
I’ve been betrayed. Betrayed! I will never forgive you!
Oh My Dog!!! On top of it all — stinky, stenchy SHAMPOO AS WELL!!! How could you!!! It smells like smelly humans!
Susan — what have you done?
The face of a doggo promising revenge …
Your towel’s not enough to get rid of all this unasked for water! I’ll try the rug. Maybe there’s something up here I can try. Or at least a little snackaroonee.
No snackaroonee. Life is full of disappointments, today.
I hope my disapproval has registered. Has my disapproval registered?
Is it permitted for me to dry myself off in my own chair, at least? Is that allowed, Susan? I just need to check now I know I’m not even allowed to roll in special lovely-smelly stuff. Not even allowed to do that! All my dog-rights are being trashed!
Not long after all the bathroom drama, Jack’s back at Jack’s Gate pleading for release onto his very own prairie.
But I know what he wants — he wants to stampede out there, rootle around in the long-grass and re-apply that delectable fox crap.
I’m not letting him out there! At least not until I’ve worked up the courage to go and find it myself and dispose of it and then let it all dry out.
In the meantime, special attention should be paid to Jack’s Butt.
Look at that curly butt! He’s washed his hair and now he can’t do a thing with it!
This is him some time later, all happy, chewing grass to celebrate, curly-buttish and smelling divine!
I think he’s forgiven me.
It’s amazing what treats can achieve.
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