Seriously, do all dogs do this?
As many of you may know, the young Dustin brought home a dog, a Jack Russell Terrier, from Wyoming. He left again, leaving Ma and Pa to care for the creature. Since I was over at their house last night-really when am I not-they asked if I watch him while they went out for their 39th anniversary. (Can't believe it's going to be 40 years next year. The clan better plan a party or the matriarch may disown us.) I figured no problem. I let him out to do his business a couple times while they are gone and no worries. Little did I know.
About 30 minutes after the parents have departed, he is looking at me then the back door. I let him out then go back to the sudoku puzzle in the paper. Five, maybe ten minutes later I remember him, open the door and yell his name. Well the latest name anyway. In the last week he has been called Zeus, Napoleon, Norman, The Dude. Frodo is the new flavor, Mom's idea. So I'm standing on the back porch shouting the name of a hobbit to the neighborhood. After a couple minutes of announcing the nerdity of my family to anyone within the sound of my voice, the little beastie comes running.
On his entering the door I notice a gray-brown mess all over his back and the blue nylon harness he is wearing. I think, "Is that..." and then the smell hits me, "yup!" "Out, outside!" I command and he complies. I sent him out to do his business, and once he was done he thought it was a good idea to roll around in it. Having no prior experience with animals taking mud baths in their own mud, I spend the next few moments chasing him around the yard with the hose. I thought it might be a bad idea, but having no other ideas going I tried it anyway. It was clear it wasn't going to work.
After I found his hiding place, I coax him out to at least get the harness off. As I spray it off with the hose, Melissa and Tony show up. My heroes! "They own dogs, they'll know what to do." Tony tells me to get a bath running and then heads back into the bathroom with Mr. Smelly. I stay in the kitchen talking to Melissa, since I assume bath time is going to be thrash about in the water time for little Frodo. Not hearing any splashing I go back to see Tony sweetly talking to the dog, and the monster quietly waiting while he is washed. I'm glad someone has more patience than I do.
I asked if their dogs do this. "Yes." WHY? Why would an animal feel the need to smear itself with such foulness? I'll admit to wallowing in my own crap sometimes, but that's wholly on a metaphorical level. Never literally. Can someone explain this to me?
About 30 minutes after the parents have departed, he is looking at me then the back door. I let him out then go back to the sudoku puzzle in the paper. Five, maybe ten minutes later I remember him, open the door and yell his name. Well the latest name anyway. In the last week he has been called Zeus, Napoleon, Norman, The Dude. Frodo is the new flavor, Mom's idea. So I'm standing on the back porch shouting the name of a hobbit to the neighborhood. After a couple minutes of announcing the nerdity of my family to anyone within the sound of my voice, the little beastie comes running.
On his entering the door I notice a gray-brown mess all over his back and the blue nylon harness he is wearing. I think, "Is that..." and then the smell hits me, "yup!" "Out, outside!" I command and he complies. I sent him out to do his business, and once he was done he thought it was a good idea to roll around in it. Having no prior experience with animals taking mud baths in their own mud, I spend the next few moments chasing him around the yard with the hose. I thought it might be a bad idea, but having no other ideas going I tried it anyway. It was clear it wasn't going to work.
After I found his hiding place, I coax him out to at least get the harness off. As I spray it off with the hose, Melissa and Tony show up. My heroes! "They own dogs, they'll know what to do." Tony tells me to get a bath running and then heads back into the bathroom with Mr. Smelly. I stay in the kitchen talking to Melissa, since I assume bath time is going to be thrash about in the water time for little Frodo. Not hearing any splashing I go back to see Tony sweetly talking to the dog, and the monster quietly waiting while he is washed. I'm glad someone has more patience than I do.
I asked if their dogs do this. "Yes." WHY? Why would an animal feel the need to smear itself with such foulness? I'll admit to wallowing in my own crap sometimes, but that's wholly on a metaphorical level. Never literally. Can someone explain this to me?
posted by Jason | 2:09 PM
1 Comments:
I have never, ever, ever, in all my years and many many dogs, owned one who either ate (gross) or rolled in (also gross) their own poop. And if I did, I would darn sure accompany them with a pooper scooper while they did their business and remove the temptation. Ugh.
I do have/have had a few who cannot resist a roll in something dead, if they happen upon it, though. These dogs have been, without exception, male. Dunno if that means anything.
I don't think the poop-rolling thing is at all un-natural, though. Just gross. To us.
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