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.
