Sunday, October 19, 2014


Of all four, Wren is the most doggish of the dogs, the grossest of the quartet. 

For example:
Q: What is Wrennie’s perfect activity?
A: Hike in the woods + rolling in wild animal poop + eating a carcass.

The carcass was a maggoty skeleton, likely a squirrel (but I did not look that closely), with spine intact, skull nearby, each which fit nicely in her mouth. And she got two attempts at hoovering the bones because we had to pass them on the way back. Two times for me to yell: drop it! DROP IT!

Her pooch perfume was horrid: thick, black, on her neck ruff and collar and sweater. She rolled early on in the hike and you could smell it right away. She was very proud. Very.

Back at the car, Sue had baby wipes and hand sanitizer to take the first layer off. Then at home, lo, a sad bath for her. But now she is fluffy and clean, and honestly, she seems a bit disappointed. But one could not, no never, be near that smell all night long. It might just kill the sleeping human as she likes to slumber in the crook of your arm. 

Clean clean clean clean clean.

No worries, it will happen again. That pretty white fur is deficient in eau de turds. One cannot deny her this, her putrid joy.

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