What is that on the baby?

Some of you have asked what was all over the baby -- finger paint. Yes, finger paint.

Monday, October 5, 2009

Stinky, Stinky Roo -- The Bog Dog

My dog is gross. She's a 60 pound slob, and she smells like a dead opossum's vagina. I always get a little sick in my throat when I open up the hatch back to move her blanket, which is where she rides to and from her many park adventures with my family. Seriously, it's that bad. It probably isn't her fault; she just happens to love stinky, stagnant water -- the more putrid the better. And somehow my husband and daughter seem happily oblivious to her stench. Last night, she actually kissed my baby girl, my two year old pixie, right on the open mouth as she waggled her bum at my husband's delighted coos. My lovely little angel laughed like the ethereal fairy she is, and I turned my head in disgust.

Don't get me wrong, I generally love animals (even my three ancient cats that throw up everywhere -- but that's another story) and I like her well enough. It's just that she is also very, very stupid. This dog almost failed basic obedience as a puppy because she couldn't figure out what we (and I am including the trainer) were trying to teach her. She just stared at us with her big, sad, saggy face and looked pathetic. She tries hard and she is terribly sweet, but she just doesn't get it. She's always underfoot and getting scolded for accidently bumping the babies or stealing their toys.

Still, she's a lot better than she once was. As a puppy, she would crap in her pen and then run through it, caking poo into her pads and tracking it through the house. Once, she even managed to smear it all over her head, face and teeth. That was a fun bath! Ever floss a dog? As a teenager, she ate everything in my apartment that was made of wicker; then she ate a hole the size of my head in my mattress when we decided to "try her loose." Needless to say, she went back into her crate when we were out. Now, as an adult, she has mellowed out some. We still can't trust her alone for long periods and she certainly can't keep up with my brother's K9 shepherd, but she has made progress.

She'll never be the sharpest crayon in the box and her hygiene leaves plenty to be desired, but she is my huge, goofy, stupid, smelly, drooling cow of a dog. I hate her slobber and her stench, I get frustrated with her slow intellect and her clumsiness, and I get overwhelmed by the size of her personality and her body -- but I love her. I do. Which is why I pretend that I don't know she's been sneaking onto the leather couch while we're all sleeping, and digging for treasure in the kitchen garbage. It is why I exclaim in bewilderment over "accidental" chew marks and blame her gas on my husband. And it is why I only turn my face a little when she lays one of her wet, sloppy"kisses" on me. She may be a big yucky mess, but she's mine.


  1. Ha! Your opening line had me laughing out loud! Great post. We used to have a dog like yours, too, and now that he's gone I realize all the more how much I loved him--and still miss him.

  2. That is too accurate sweetie. I knew you really loved that dog. Faker.



Subscribe to updates