Grendel got into some shit this morning. Literally.
I had been thinking about giving the little fugger a bath for a while now. Grendel forced my hand this morning by finding a pile of poop to roll around in. I turned him loose in my parents back yard so that he could answer natures call. After he scampered around for a minute or two, I noticed a slimy brown sheen to his coat. Instantly, I knew he had found something revolting to roll around in.
Apparently dogs don’t care much for how they smell, so occasionally they are compelled to mask it with something even worse smelling. I guess they figure they can be stealthy if they roll around in something hideous. I don’t know about you, but if I don’t like how I smell, I rather enjoy a warm shower with a big honkin’ bar of soap. Not so for Grendel.
I promptly grabbed him as best I could without getting too much poop on my own hands. Into the laundry sink he went, with some warm water and the aforementioned bar of soap. I rinsed the brown goo from him and lathered him up, much to his chagrin. As Barney looked on, Grendel tried to climb out of the sink to escape the dreaded stream of water and doggy shampoo. Grendel was no more pleased with me bathing him, as I was with him rolling around in a puddle of brown goo outside.
We call dogs “mans best friend”, but after this episode, the relationship has been strained a little. He was quite happy getting a horrible stink on, and I was quite happy with the polar opposite. The tension between “if it feels good, do it” and “cleanliness is next to godliness” was apparent.
All of this merely proves one point. There are different strokes for different folks. The big questions remain unanswered.