When I agreed to come house/dog/cat sit for my parents while they visited my brother in Senegal I imagined cooking big feasts, long trail runs, and plenty of time to reflect on life (something in short supply for me these past 5 years). I did not imagine that within 48 hours of beginning my duties I would find myself outside in the 37 degree weather, buck-naked, and smeared with manure.
But, before I describe how I arrived in such a pitiful state let me provide a little key background information.
(Note: Mom and dad, as of this writing everything is back to normal, the house is clean, and no serious harm has befallen any pets.)
You should know that my parents currently have two dogs, one, Lucy, is a slightly neurotic but lovable pitbull who has the nasty habit of eating cat poop. The other, Arnold, is a massive orange mutt who smells like a dead animal and loves to rub against you whenever possible. If you even so much as pat his head once, just once!, you will need to wash your hands. Immediately. Arnold is also an escape artist. Despite an electric fence turned on full he will at times bolt through it and disappear for hours until we find him trotting along a road far from home or a neighbor calls, "umm, we have your dog." Thus, we have had to keep him chained up during the day except for morning and evening walks. Prior to leaving, my dad had informed me that if I kept Lucy and Arnold in a certain area of the property during their daily walk Arnold shouldn't run away. Ample use of dog biscuits was also key to maintaining proper behaviour.
This morning dawned foggy but not raining. Nice! I decided to take the dogs out for their morning walk/bowel evacuation. After a couple successful dog walks with Arnold on a leash and last night's walk without a leash I decided I had this thing figured out amd chose not to use the leash. The dogs bounded out into the grass, frolicking, sniffing, peeing, you know, dog stuff. Lucy went for a stick and I grabbed the other end, "snap" so much for that game.
When I turned around from playing with Lucy I realized I could not see Arnold. No worries I told myself, I know the path he takes, down past the pond, poop in the field, up around by the garden, and back to the house. I headed out after him with Lucy in tow. He wasn't in his favorite poop spot, he wasn't by the pond, and he wasn't by the spot my dad had warned me that he likes to run through the fence... Excrement! I had been fooled by a shaggy smelly dog! He let me think he would play by the rules the night prior while he was really just plotting his morning escape the following day! Blast!
I changed into warmer clothes, locked Lucy in the house so she wouldn't run off too, grabbed my bike, and headed out in pursuit. In the distance I could heard screeching chickens... I circumnavigated our property on the roads and also went down side streets in the zone I thought him most likely to have left. Nothing. Over by the chickens, also no sign, it appears the chickens were just screeching because, well, I actually have no idea, maybe they like doing it.
Heading home, dejected, I could imagine Arnold run over by a car somewhere, gasping his last breaths on the side of the road. And my father's disapointed look, "son, you shouldn't have let him out of your sight." These thoughts bouncing around my head I entered the side door of the house and immediately noticed something amiss. Lucy was coming down the stairs from my room. She was not sitting in her little bed by the door where she is supposed to be at all times when inside. Uh oh. Lucy gave me a guilty look and padded down the hall back to her bed. That's when I noticed it. I had left the laundry room door open more than 6 inches. Normally just open a slit for the cats to get in/out in order to eat/drink/use the cat litter box I had left it open after getting dog biscuits prior to the walk and forgot to close it before heading out after Arnold. I entered with trepidation... To find disaster: cat litter covered the floor, along with bits of missed cat poop that Lucy had failed to eat. She had also torn open the bag of poop I had collected the day prior, eaten most of the contents before leaving it flayed open on the floor. To cap it off, the cat's food bowls were empty. I was devastated. As I cleaned up poop and cat litter dark thoughts of harming dogs floated through my head. However, after plenty of time cleaning to calm down some, I came to the conclusion that dogs are like young children and any punishment at this point would not be linked back to the original misdeed.
Then it came time to wait. Arnold could be anywhere on the island by now but from past exploits he was probably within a few miles. The question though was which direction. Usually, in the past, he would tire of his freedom eventually and show up on someone's doorstep acting all cute (but still smelly) and they would see his tags and call our house. Thus, though I wanted to hunt him down, I knew I had to play it cool and let him decide to call it quits. Sure enough, 5 hours later the phone rang, "hi, this is Linda, I think I have your dog... and he kind of smells."
When I pulled into Linda's yard off Taylor avenue there was Arnold, with a huge grin on his face. "I bet you're loving this," I muttered under my breath as I popped out of the truck, leash in hand. "He's really smelly" Linda commented, "I think he might have rolled in something..."
"Yup, he's a smelly one all right, that smell is actually normal for him."
And then it hit me, a tidal wave of foul odor above and beyond even Arnold's normal pungent concoction. "Dear Lord, that is foul, Arnold what did you do?!"
"I think it might be horse manure," Linda added. Now that she mentioned it, that might be it, horse manure combined with natural Arnold scent for a toxic ultimate knock-out scent. I apologized profusely for the entire incident, got Arnold in the back of the truck, and headed for home.
During the ride home I debated my next course of action. I didn't want anything more to do with Arnold but with a stench that strong even chained up he would infect the entire garage. Slowly, the realization dawned on me... he needed a bath. And I was the person who had to give said bath. The temperature being in the mid-30s I debated how best to go about this. In the end I decided my best course of action, though risky, was to quickly get him into the shower above the garage and wash him naked. If I did it outside any clothes I had on would be destroyed. I stripped naked inside, then headed back out to do battle. "Alright Arnold, no more funny business, it's bath time - bring it!" I let him out of the truck, smear, a combination of manure and dirt was rubbed onto arm and leg. Somehow, naked and barefoot, I managed to hold onto his collar and get him out of the truck, through the garage, and into the shower with the glass door shut without him shaking liquid around or smearing anything except me. As I directed the shower's spray into his thick fur, streams of dark green/brown water poured off his body and a holy stench rose up. I fought back with gobs of Bali Mango shampoo until I was able to once again breath through my nose without gagging.
Bath finished I realized my rookie error. I had left the towel outside and not hung on the top. I tried to slip out of the shower door quickly to get it but Arnold fought past me and got in one huge shake - water flew everywhere - before I lunged and tackled him with the towel. The big hurdle accomplished and flush with success I then washed Lucy for good measure. She was not pleased.
1) Arnold is not to be trusted. No matter how much he gives me the big old deer eyes of innocence.
2) Horse manure + mud + Arnold scent + unknown compounds = possible terrorism weapon. Avoid if at all possible.
3) If you cannot avoid #2 apply liberal hot water and Bali mango shampoo and hope for the best.
4) Never, never, never! leave the laundry door open, no matter what. Even if you think you'll be right back in, well, you just might not.
5) Despite all the challenges of the day, well, I still do love these two dogs. I even gave them dinner after promising myself they would not eat for 3 days. I wonder if the whole experience was a lesson to prepare me for kids one day? These dogs made me want to tear my hair out today but after it was all over, when they made their happy dog faces at me, well, the anger just melted away. Any thoughts parents?
Ok, until next time!