Our darling Goldens are well-nigh perfect of course. Little angels of decorum, love and behavior. We all believe that the tawny members of our packs would never stoop to petty acts of vandalism or mischief. Yeah – Sure!. (first in a series)
Early in our adventures with GRRoW adoptees, before Ben joined the pack, we went out for a walk - to test Bailey "off the leash." Ours is a dead-end street, so local traffic is very light. It was trash day, so We rolled the trash bins to the street, and I heard a truck making noise a couple of houses away. Aha! Perfect timing. Bailey’s buddy, Greg-the G-Man, is here! Oops - not so. It turns out to be a septic tank pumper doing his thing for a neighbor a couple of doors to the East. On we go down the block. A bit later, we meet a couple of gents doing a bird survey for the Audubon Society, so we relate what I'd seen at our feeders and all about the place. Bailey trotted right up and made friends, All licks and wags. Perfect little lady.
A brief rest at the end, and back we go. Bailey runs full-tilt, and covers five miles for every one I accomplish. From a distance, I see her joyfully wriggling on her back in the neighbor’s still-green grass. It's been a warm winter so far, in spite of a couple of good snowfalls. Then, she comes bounding back to me with that "Look what I found, Daddy" expression on her face. But - something is wrong. I can see it from 100 feet away. Somebody has painted my dog black!
Then the connection comes to mind. That septic pumper was NOT making a routine call. The neighbor had a big pool of septic effluent in the middle of his yard, and Bailey was in ecstasy as she did what most hunter-dogs do when they find something disgusting. Dive in and roll! Yuck! No, Bailey! Down!! Double Yuck!! Fortunately we did not greet anybody else on the way home. I'm really, really glad we didn't drive someplace for this walk! I can't imagine loading her into the car for a ride home in her slimy, smelly condition.
How can a dog, with olfactory sense that is said to be 1000 times more sensitive than our own, take such pleasure in such gawdawful stuff? Maybe it's the canine equivalent of catnip. If so, I concede superiority to cats.
Or, maybe it's their version of chocolate (similar color). If so, only my spouse can explain.
We have a hose in the garage that dispenses warm water, so a very thorough rinse-down left her clean-looking and me wet from the knees down. A quick drying, and we venture into the house. Spouse takes one sniff and proclaims “You’re not there yet. Out!” It's aromatically obvious that we're not finished. Oh well; I needed a shower anyway, so off we go - but not before Bailey does a quick detour through the kitchen to gleefully shake slightly smelly rinse water all over. Aaaack! Triple Yuck!
‘Glad our shower is a roomy one. In we both go. Hmmm, this isn't what comes to mind when I recall that old college days’ exhortation to shower with a young female friend! Time to activate the warm rain. Bailey doesn't mind getting rained on - hard. A couple of ounces of shampoo, vigorous agitation and a good drying, and the olfactory evidence is gone - almost. Now she snoozes, probably dreaming of the tale she can one day tell her offspring about the wonderful stuff she found not far away. I hope it dries up or soaks in fast, and I sure hope she doesn't remember it on our next walk!