Rolling in the PutridPosted: March 26, 2013
All dogs love the putrid–even beautiful, sweet, obedient dogs like me. (Are you reading this, Mommy? Did I mention sweet?)
Monday morning began much like most of my mornings. My humans had to wake up early to get their week started, but I remained on my warm and cozy bed, enjoying just a little extra sleep. I finally arose, went outside, came back in, ate my breakfast, and settled in for the first of my morning naps. When I awoke, I went outside again to perform a perimeter search. I like to walk all around the exterior edge of my back yard so that I can sniff and determine what sort of wildlife has come to visit overnight. On this particular morning, I was in for a big treat.
My human mommy glanced outside and saw me rolling happily on the ground. Apparently she didn’t think much about it, because she let me continue to roll, and roll, and roll, and . . . you get the picture. Then when I ran to the door like a crazy dog, charged inside, grabbed as many toys as I could out of my toy basket, and started running wildly from room to room, she just thought I was happy about the cool weather. I was happy, alright, but not necessarily about the cool weather.
Exhausted from the excitement, I plopped down and fell asleep. And that’s when my mommy discovered it: something horribly putrid all over the side of my face and neck. Not just putrid, mind you, but horribly putrid . . . gag-inducing putrid. Suddenly I knew that perhaps rolling in what my human daddy would call “monkey dung” had not been my best idea ever. As luck (or the lack thereof) would have it, it was too cold outside for a full bath. So my mommy had to fill a container with hot water and shampoo and give me a mini-bath on the patio.
And that’s where we ran into another problem. While our spring has been absolutely lovely–beautiful blue skies, young leaves appearing on the trees, and colorful blossoms all around–it has brought with it an abundance of “oak squigglies”–those little pollen-filled worm-looking things that fall from the oaks and attach to a Golden Retriever’s coat like something magnetic. The cleaner my head and neck became, the more covered with “oak squigglies” my body became.
My mommy and I have mixed feelings about “dog shaming”–the practice of taking pictures of guilty-looking pups with signs stating the horrible acts they’ve committed (eating large sums of paper money, attaching themselves to the legs of unsuspecting house guests, etc.)–but in this case, even I must admit that it’s appropriate. Sorry my canine instincts overcame me. Sorry I chose something so unusually, horribly putrid. Sorry I found such sheer delight in its presence on me. Sorry it covered my coat so completely and deeply that I ended up having to go to the groomer.
I promise that I will not ever, ever, ever do that again.