OK, so Tutter goes to Opa’s farm whenever we leave for the odd holiday.
Opa is my husband’s father, a quick-witted wizened old Dutchman, who emigrated to Canada from The Netherlands back in the 50’s. He taught himself English through Archie comics and working his way through Canada with his brother, ultimately ending up the owner of a beautiful remote piece of heaven in the West Kootenays along the west arm of Kootenay Lake. He has raised many animals in his day, he is a wealth of information about farming. He is one cool cat. I love him very much….
Tutter, thusly, has a grand time at Opa’s. He gets to run amok in a 40 acre farm, complete with chickens, cows, good “sniffies” and nothing but time on his paws….. So, this past August weekend, as we journeyed south to the States to have some fun at Silverwood, the dog stayed at my in-laws..
He inevitably comes home very smelly.
Lord God. He smells worse than that dead raccoon me and the kids found along the highway one time and had to poke with sticks on a hot summer’s day.
That was smelly and squishy. Also:
It. Was. Awesome.
Tutter, however, is smelling not so awesome.
He stinks. Really bad.
I can’t quite put my finger on what it is that he smell like. Fish? No. Dead skunk? No. Cow pie? No. Rotten vegetables from compost? No.
It’s just moist. And musty. And wrong.
Ugh. Dogs are fucking gross. So, he is getting a hose-down with lots of doggy shampoo in the morning. And then, after having touched his fur, I’m gonna need a hose-down myself. That is, unless I can find a Haz-Mat suit on short notice…….
So, yeah, dogs are gross. Really really gross. And yet, I love that stinky dog a whole bunch.