I have a little dog who is ten years old and who is quite adorable if you consider a life form that resembles a bad toupee with big brown eyes a form of adorable.
On the plus side, if a horse needed a toupee, my dog, Chancey (Cha), would be the perfect fit.
In fact, Cha is a perfect little dog in every way if you don’t count the fact that she’s never been one to smell so good.
Ok, maybe when she was a pup she smelled OK, because she was so darn cute and you don’t really notice bad smells around cute adorableness. (Toddlers with a pant-load of poo being a prime example.) But the older Cha has gotten, the more she doesn’t smell very . . . shall we say, fresh?
And giving her a bath? Forget about it.
It doesn’t seem to help in the least. You can give her a thorough going-over in the most luxurious smelling shampoo and seconds later she smells just like she did before. It’s like somebody pushed her stinky button on at the factory, and its been stuck ever since.
The only time Cha smells the slightest bit good is when she is standing down wind from a rosebush garden
. . . or has spent a week wandering around the perfume factory — which rarely happens as you might well imagine (unless you don’t imagine well in which case nevermind).
I’ve often wished I knew how to weave some great smelling dryer sheets so I could weave Cha a dryer sheet-collar, a dryer-sheet tail ring and maybe four little woven dryer-sheet bracelets for each ankle. But I don’t even know how to knit, let alone weave. Plus, do dogs even have ankles?
The only thing that really smells good about Cha is her nose. In that regard she smells better than I do, I suppose.
And, if horses ever start going bald, we could hire her out as a Horse Toupee.
So when you really think about it, the fact that she doesn’t smell so great is somehow maybe even a plus.
Oh who am I kidding . . .
Until next time . . . I love you