This is about Sam - again!!! - the dog, not a man.
I think this dog has to be mentally retarded - or a genius. You tell me which.
First there was the colored ink cartridge caper. Second where she fell head-first into a snowdrift. We are now on number three. I wonder how many more there will be?
I have mentioned we have a portion of our yard fenced in (6 foot high), with a, what is now a dog shelter, used to be a horse shelter, wooden floor ( the horses had dirt) and two dog houses (the horses just had the shelter.
This was Jerry and my project, taking the horse shelter down piece by piece, moving it from the pasture to the fenced in yard, and re-assembling said shelter. I think the worst damage I did to Jerry on that project was dropping a board (it was was heavy, I am old, sort of) on Jerry's hand. He did a couple of real fancy dance steps.
The shelter is assembled. He even had me paint the outside of it. Doesn't look too bad. All around this shelter is (or maybe I should say "was") grass. Good grass. Green grass. Even got mowed every so often by Jerry. What more could a couple of dogs want? Stupid question.
This entire spring, summer, and fall we have had lots and lots of rain. The ground is soaked. Really really soaked. Under the grass is nothing but mud, lots of mud.
So, Sam, being Sam, decided to start digging. And digging. And digging.
Our dogs are house dogs - unless hunting rabbits - but they go out 2 - 3 times a day when the just have to go, then back into the house. For the last couple of weeks Sam is digging. Holes everywhere. Shallow holes. Deep holes. Muddy holes. Muddy dog. You should see her feet. And her legs. When she is ready to come in she is mud almost to her belly, which isn't saying too much. Sam likes to each. Her belly seems to get closer to the ground every year. We have even put her on a diet, Coco also, although he is not over-weight. We used to give the dogs each 1/2 a can of dog food in the morning and the other half in the evening. Now they only get 1/4 of a can morning and 1/4 in the evening. Poor Coco is getting penalized because of Sam.
When Jerry would let the dogs out, before Sam could come in the door he would grab her and wipe her down. Got rid of most of the mud, but left muddy footprints in the laundry room, hallway, and kitchen. Guess who got to mop the floor. It definitely was not Sam, or Jerry.
I decided this was ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. So far she hasn't found the gold she is searching for, just the grunge.
So, being the smart cookie that I am - even if no one else believes it, I do - I got a small bucket. Actually is is a plastic tub that ice cream comes in. I have several of them handy for various projects, and I decided that Sam was definitely a project.
Into this small bucket I put water, about half full. Not warm water, cold water. She does not deserve warm water.
When she is ready to come in, I take the bucket out onto the patio. She doesn't like this at all. I grab her by taking one foot and leg at a time putting it in the water, swishing her foot and leg back and forth, then dry her off with a towel. Eureka, mud is gone! We do this one foot at a time until all four feet are clean. Then and only then does she get to come into the house.
What about Coco? He doesn't dig. He doesn't even walk where Sam has turned the yard into mud. He comes in clean. He doesn't need to have a foot bath. Thank goodness.
Right now you don't dare walk into the yard unless it is full daylight. You never know when you will fall into a hole. It might even be the hole that goes all the way to China.
Jerry is moaning about having to bring in dirt later this fall when the ground dries out a little bit and filling in the holes. Sam will just empty them out again.
In the meantime Sam tries to hide when she sees the bucket. You would think she would get the message, but not Sam. At least when she comes in after I give her the foot bath, I don't have to mop the floor.
The picture I am attaching here is of Sam, just before she ran off the edge of the patio and went head first into the snow drift. She was not a happy camper that day either.
Be glad you don't have to give your dog a foot bath, and God Bless.
No comments:
Post a Comment