Canine Dignity

That feeling when you know you’ve got to grease your bulldog’s creases, and that he probably won’t like it, but he’d like being chafed and yeasty even less. Unfortunately, you can’t explain that to a dog. For them, it’s all one eternal Now, and when the Now involves not only bath-time but Sulfodene and butt paste, well. There is much moaning, groaning, and “BUT I WAS JUST WASHED LAST WEEK.”

The only thing making it bearable for Odd is the prospect of treats after the greasing of manifold crevices. Which he snarfs happily, then looks at me as if to say, “MOTHER. THAT WAS NOT ENOUGH REWARD FOR WHAT YOU JUST PUT ME THROUGH.”

And I reply, each time, “At least you get something out of the deal.” Not gonna lie, when one’s up to one’s wrist slathering a bulldog’s inguinal fold, sometimes one wonders if rescuing, say, a Labrador might have been a little more dignified.

Of course, I had a yellow Lab once, and “dignified” is not the word I’d use for that lurpy, happy bundle of furry neuroticism.

I managed to get out for a run yesterday, and it felt amazing. The only trouble with today is having to take it easy, because the mixture of bad weather and depression set my mileage back a bit. I long to get out and pound some more pavement, and I know Miss B would go with me, but the aching in my shins tells me pushing it yesterday means nothing but stretching and deep breathing today.


At least things are a little brighter. I managed to make it out of bed this morning on the first try. Progress! Miss B didn’t have to nose me more than once to express her joy at being Awake and Ready to Do Fun Things. Thankfully, brekkie and a rousing game of “let’s wrestle with Odd so Mum can grease him” has exhausted her, and she needs a short nap before finding more trouble to get into. This will probably involve the backyard, which is a sea of mud from the snowmelt and the weekend of steady rain.

Yeah. Dignity. Not a canine strong suit. I’m beginning to think it’s not really one of mine, either.