Conversations with the dog

Honestly, I can be such a dweeb sometimes. :2029:

This weekend I’ve been looking after Mrs Woofy the black labrador as The Rev, Gembolina and the clingons have all gone away to a party in Yorkshire for the weekend.

How many times have I posted photos of a dirty, manky Douggie all covered in mud? I can’t hose him down when we get home because he hates the hosepipe, although he likes it well enough when I’m watering the garden or cleaning the car,  so it’s been towels, towels, towels all the way.  Towels, the bane of my life. If I’m not washing ’em I’m drying ’em. No one warned me about the towels when we got a dog.

After coming back with Douggie and Mrs Woofy from a particularly mucky walk, I was bracing myself for another pile of wet and dirty towels when the dogs ran onto the  patio. Douggie shot off onto the field and Mrs Woofy headed straight for the pond. One huge splash later  – and she came out beautiful and clean. Oops. I’d had strict instructions not to let her get wet, roll in anything or scrub her head (or arse) along the floor or feed her anything that wasn’t her own special food because she’s had a particularly bad recurring ear infection and  for what she’s cost in vet fees recently the whole family could have gone on a round the world cruise.

Oh dear. In trouble again.

Anyway…. moving on. Mrs Woofy jumped back out of the pond grinning from ear to infected ear and sparkling clean.

What? Wait. Hang on…..You could almost see the lightbulb come on.

 DOUGGEEEEEEE!!!!

Douggie duly came running over to see what was going on.

The conversation went like this:

Me: Get in the pond.
Him: Nope.
Me: Get in the pond:
Him: Nuh-uh.
Me: Get in the pond *throws a treat in the pond*
Him:  * Straining to reach treat without getting wet* Darn it.  Can’t. Reach. It. Nope, Not getting in.
Me: Get in the pond *Throws in another treat*

This went on for two or three minutes while I threw treats and stones into the pond to entice him in.

Surprising really for a dog who’d rather swim than walk, will knock me off my feet with excitement when I pick up a stone to throw into the river for him, will fire himself like a rocket into any river, stream, brook or muddy ditch and happily clamber up or  down waterfalls.

Enter stage left….Mrs Woofy who jumps in the pond and and eats the treat. Dougie’s face was a picture.

Him: DAGNABBIT!! WOOFY GOT MY TREAT!
Me: Get in the pond.
Him: I dunno.
Me: Get in the pond *throws another treat in the pond*
Mrs Woofy jumps in for the treat, Douggie  follows.
Exit two clean dogs.

I’m going to be in so much trouble from Gembolina.

But why oh why has it taken me so very long to realise I have a dog bath on my very doorstep?

Here it is next to Douggie. Right height, right size, clean, flowing water. Perfect dog bath. Tsk. You will have realised by now if you’ve been paying attention that the little dog with Douggie isn’t Mrs Woofy as it isn’t a black labrador. It is in fact my sister’s puppy, Angus.

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5 thoughts on “Conversations with the dog”

  1. When I was a teenager I used to babysit 4 pretty difficult children. One night I was left to bath them and their mother issued the instruction along with: “They have a bowl of ice-cream each in the tub” ……. still makes me both shake my head and laugh.

    1. Eau de fox. Lovely. Someone told me that there is something in tomatoes that gets rid of the smell so she recommends rubbing some ketchup onto the ‘affected’ spot. I thought she was joking. Apparently not.

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