If you’ve ever read mkromd, then you know that my dog is insane and that she and I have a love-hate relationship. No really, at the risk of anthropomorphizing, you can tell that she loves to do things only because they piss me off. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes that poor baby is just in the wrong place at the wrong time, like when she got sprayed by a skunk and ran through DB’s house a few years ago; but other times, she’s a willing participant. And this time, she rolled in dog-shit…on purpose…then tried to rub against me…repeatedly…at a park…where smallish-sized children were playing.
All jokes aside, she smelled worse than the victim in The Exorcist. And, because I kept running away from her, she thought I was playing, which made her want to play more, regardless of the fact that I was throwing water from my Kleen Kanteen and shouting, “The Power of Christ compels you. The Power of Christ compels you.” The saddest part of that story is that it’s totally true, but I digress.
The point is that I will never understand how her canine brain translated my reaction to her behavior as, “Who’s a good girl and wants to play?” But I do know that, even though she was blissfully clueless, those kids figured it out pretty-damned fast, because - when they tried to pet “the puppy,” the only thing I could scream was, “Unclean! UNCLEAN!” and they stopped. OK, maybe they didn’t “get it” per se, but not one of them went home with dog shit all over them, and —years from now, when they work it out in therapy—I hope they stop repressing the fact that I did them a favor. They’re welcome.
At any rate, after twenty minutes of being down-wind on the humid walk home, I’d had it, and when we finally got to our yard, I tied her to a tree, put on rubber gloves, grabbed the dog shampoo, turned on the hose, and started scrubbing her. Now, she’s a Rotweiller/Lab mix and she loves water, so when it hit her pelt, her entire demeanor changed from, “I will cut the bitch who tethered me here,” to “Sweet Jesus, dog shit is magical! Not only do I smell like a Bull Mastiff’s ass right now but there are bubbles to chase. Dear Dog, please let there be bacon, too. Amen.”
I’d say she’s bi-polar, but because she’s a dog, you’d have to multiply by seven.