Smelly Dogs

Sometimes  things just creep up on you, don’t they?

It was a lovely sunny morning and I was driving along with the Hound of Satan quietly snarling in the back, pondering to myself.

What a beautiful day.  What a clear blue sky.  What should I do for the afternoon?  What the fuck is that smell?  

But of course, I already know the answer.  This is not a doggie smell.  This is the smell of things that dogs roll around in when you’re not there to kick them up the arse.

If you have a dog, you’ll know what I’m talking about.  You’re out for a walk with your little four-legged best friend when suddenly he finds some vile filthy putrid piece of shit and rolls around on it, covering himself in a puke-inducing pong and laughing up at you.   Hey, look at me, human!

Dogs don’t have a gag reflex, and with good reason.

Get up off that pile of rotten crap, you bastard!

wild dogs

I once read that packs of wild dogs do this to disguise their scent so that they can creep up on their prey undetected, and of course, our domestic dogs aren’t that far removed from their feral cousins, so I suppose it makes sense.  Sort of.

Here’s a herd of gazelles, out there on the savanna, munching away at their grass and leaves.  Suddenly they all go stiff with fear.

– What’s that smell?  What?  What smell?  What’s that? Where?  What?  

– Wait.  It’s like a strange mixture of rotten fish and cowshit.

– But there are no fish or cows out here on the savanna.

– True, but at least it’s not a pack of wild dogs creeping up on us to tear us limb from limb.

– Good point.  Have another branch of this delicious and easily-digestible vegetation.

All well and good, I suppose.  Dogs can’t change their essential nature any more than I can, but my car is now stinking of whatever rotten, decomposed squashed rat-entrails my fucking pet has been rolling in.  And so am I.

On the positive side, if I should get a sudden urge to attack a herd of gazelles, my children will eat well tonight.



7 thoughts on “Smelly Dogs

  1. That raised a rye guffaw at this end. Mine is a paranoid, somewhat psychotic collie bitch.

    As a by the by, fox shite is at a real premium amongst above the canine tribe whilst differentiating aromas in the great outdoors.

    Fox shite is the almost the ultimate, only bettered by the crème de la crème of canine cologne.

    The decomposing soup emanating from a six week deceased adult badger.

  2. That guey black stuff that really really stinks and doesn’t clean off easily and you always rub your dog in the place he has rolled in it? Usually just behind his ear.
    That is the stuff of Satan. But my dog Alfie loves it. Never seen Bob the other do it though……. Wonder why…

  3. Once upon a time, at an old farm house far away, I was putting the finishing touches on a picture window that we, meaning me and the guy I worked for, had installed earlier. This farm was rather isolated, nothing around as far as the eye could see but fields and a far off tree line. So I decided it was safe enough to let my dog, Friday, out of the car for the duration. I mean. what could she possibly get into when the nearest farm was at least two miles away over fallow fields and through the woods?

    It was March in Vermont but which can be quite cold but we were experiencing a rare bout of lovely warm weather with temps in the 60’s during the day although it was still below freezing at night. So around 3:00 PM the sun had started to near the ridge line and the temps were dropping fast so I called Friday a few times (it always took her about 10 minutes to come back from wherever she was) and collected up my tools and paint cans. 10 minutes later, on the dot, Friday arrived–covered head to butt-end with fresh horse manure. My usually snow white dog was now a 42 pound shit pile on four legs and I was facing a 45 minute drive home, with the heat on, in a small car. I wasn’t happy about this as you might imagine.

    Nowadays I have cats. They despise riding in the car and that’s fine with me.

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