Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Springtime Lemon Death Bouquet
I have to tell you all about the NoodleDog and his seemingly perverse wish to displease me. We went on a walk yesterday, which is routine, and just great if it’s nice out. About ¾ of the way through, he managed to find something dead and decaying in the middle of the off-leash area in a field. And he went straight over to it and rolled in it, of course, which is what I should expect because he’s a dog. However, when I noticed this and called him over, he had REALLY rolled in it, because he smelled awful – like putrified death rot. Whatever it was must have really been in the last stages of existence, because he was covered in a kind of oily residue that smelled worse than pretty much anything I’ve ever smelled in person. I’m told skunk is pretty bad, and can believe it, but this was worse because I was right up close to it and it was really powerful. I can totally stand skunk smell when I’m driving – it’s not that bad, and probably because it’s mostly dissipated, it’s even kind of familiar and reminds me of the countryside, so I don’t mind it at all. But this smell? Gah.
I got him home, of course, and called my mother.
“Hello?”
“Aaaa!! My dog rolled in something dead and now he stinks. Stinks, stinks, stinks!!”
(laughter) “OK, the thing you do, according to Dr. Stanley, is wipe him down with a soapy facecloth.”
“…” as I contemplated using one of my good facecloths on my ever-so-smelly dog.
“Or any kind of cloth, really, just wipe him down, and you should be able to get it off.”
“What kind of soap can I use?”
“Oh, any kind. Dish soap should do the trick.”
“OK, great. Thanks!”
So I did. I filled the sink with warm soapy water, and found a dead tea-towel to use on him, and proceeded to wipe him down. A lot. Over and over. He didn’t seem to mind too much, except when I started using a bit of force on him, he started trying to move around too much. When he was fairly well-saturated from the wetting down, I let him go to move about the house freely.
However, when I was sitting on my sofa later, trying to read a book, he came over to see me, and still smelled completely rancid. “Ick!” I yelled at him. “You totally stink… get away from me!” So he looked at me with very, very sad eyes, curled up across the room from me, and gave a huge, forlorn sigh.
I caved. I went over to him, holding my breath, and said “it’s not your fault, you totally inept animal. But we’re gonna have to take a bath!! Yay bath!!” and then I got him all wound up to go into the tub. He was pretty excited, wagging his tail, going up to the tub, and then away because he can’t get into the tub (his legs are pretty short, remember). He woofed once, and then realized that I was going to make him get into the tub, and that he probably didn’t actually want to do this.
So I had to drag him over and sort of lift/push him into the tub. It wasn’t pretty, but I got him in there. Then I turned on the water (because if you’re going to wash a dog in the tub, you’re supposed to put the water in when he’s already in it, rather than trying to chuck a dog into an already filled tub), and he started to look worried. He backed away from the tap, but I wouldn’t let him out of the tub. I put in more Palmolive Springtime Bouquet “Basket of Lemons” dish soap, and started scrubbing. I scrubbed until I couldn’t smell the stench of death any more, the NoodleDog looking more and more desperate as we went on. Finally, I started rinsing with clean water. I couldn’t get clean water to his feet, since he was partially immersed, and I wasn’t about to try and drain the tub with him in it, so I just used a cup and poured clean fresh water over him.
The NoodleDog had had enough at that point. He made a break for it, ever so slowly and determinedly, putting one foot on the edge, and then another, and then kind of sliding down the other side to the floor, and when he hit the linoleum, he was off and running. He looked back at me (because I was standing there, in shock that he would contemplate such action when I wasn’t quite finished rinsing, damnit!), and that was that. He got as far as the hallway before I tackled him with the two towels I had at the ready. I dragged him back into the bathroom, thinking he needed to be properly rinsed, but when I saw I’d have to lug him over to the bathtub and force him back in, I realized that this was as good as it got, and just dried him off with the towels.
Smudge, who was observing the entire proceeding from her perch on the bathroom sink, thought it was absolutely hilarious, and got into the tub as soon as it was empty to see what all the commotion was about and to chase the suds. Rumble, on the other hand, who has endured several baths in his lifetime and knows exactly what they’re all about, meowed mournfully throughout the entire drying procedure, as if to say “Buddy, I feel your pain…”. Even though Rumble really dislikes the NoodleDog, he can sympathize and probably thinks no one deserves such a horrible fate as a bath.
The NoodleDog has Agility class tonight. He has missed two weeks, and I’m fairly sure the rest of the class will be pretty far ahead of him. Plus, I think we’re going to have to work on the dreaded teeter-totter… it should be a fun evening!
I got him home, of course, and called my mother.
“Hello?”
“Aaaa!! My dog rolled in something dead and now he stinks. Stinks, stinks, stinks!!”
(laughter) “OK, the thing you do, according to Dr. Stanley, is wipe him down with a soapy facecloth.”
“…” as I contemplated using one of my good facecloths on my ever-so-smelly dog.
“Or any kind of cloth, really, just wipe him down, and you should be able to get it off.”
“What kind of soap can I use?”
“Oh, any kind. Dish soap should do the trick.”
“OK, great. Thanks!”
So I did. I filled the sink with warm soapy water, and found a dead tea-towel to use on him, and proceeded to wipe him down. A lot. Over and over. He didn’t seem to mind too much, except when I started using a bit of force on him, he started trying to move around too much. When he was fairly well-saturated from the wetting down, I let him go to move about the house freely.
However, when I was sitting on my sofa later, trying to read a book, he came over to see me, and still smelled completely rancid. “Ick!” I yelled at him. “You totally stink… get away from me!” So he looked at me with very, very sad eyes, curled up across the room from me, and gave a huge, forlorn sigh.
I caved. I went over to him, holding my breath, and said “it’s not your fault, you totally inept animal. But we’re gonna have to take a bath!! Yay bath!!” and then I got him all wound up to go into the tub. He was pretty excited, wagging his tail, going up to the tub, and then away because he can’t get into the tub (his legs are pretty short, remember). He woofed once, and then realized that I was going to make him get into the tub, and that he probably didn’t actually want to do this.
So I had to drag him over and sort of lift/push him into the tub. It wasn’t pretty, but I got him in there. Then I turned on the water (because if you’re going to wash a dog in the tub, you’re supposed to put the water in when he’s already in it, rather than trying to chuck a dog into an already filled tub), and he started to look worried. He backed away from the tap, but I wouldn’t let him out of the tub. I put in more Palmolive Springtime Bouquet “Basket of Lemons” dish soap, and started scrubbing. I scrubbed until I couldn’t smell the stench of death any more, the NoodleDog looking more and more desperate as we went on. Finally, I started rinsing with clean water. I couldn’t get clean water to his feet, since he was partially immersed, and I wasn’t about to try and drain the tub with him in it, so I just used a cup and poured clean fresh water over him.
The NoodleDog had had enough at that point. He made a break for it, ever so slowly and determinedly, putting one foot on the edge, and then another, and then kind of sliding down the other side to the floor, and when he hit the linoleum, he was off and running. He looked back at me (because I was standing there, in shock that he would contemplate such action when I wasn’t quite finished rinsing, damnit!), and that was that. He got as far as the hallway before I tackled him with the two towels I had at the ready. I dragged him back into the bathroom, thinking he needed to be properly rinsed, but when I saw I’d have to lug him over to the bathtub and force him back in, I realized that this was as good as it got, and just dried him off with the towels.
Smudge, who was observing the entire proceeding from her perch on the bathroom sink, thought it was absolutely hilarious, and got into the tub as soon as it was empty to see what all the commotion was about and to chase the suds. Rumble, on the other hand, who has endured several baths in his lifetime and knows exactly what they’re all about, meowed mournfully throughout the entire drying procedure, as if to say “Buddy, I feel your pain…”. Even though Rumble really dislikes the NoodleDog, he can sympathize and probably thinks no one deserves such a horrible fate as a bath.
The NoodleDog has Agility class tonight. He has missed two weeks, and I’m fairly sure the rest of the class will be pretty far ahead of him. Plus, I think we’re going to have to work on the dreaded teeter-totter… it should be a fun evening!
