Saturday, July 08, 2006
It's been a doggy kind of week. In addition to our pomeranian, Frankie, our son and dil and their three kids, we also had as guests Oreo the Boston terrier, and Gracie the pug mix. Remember, we live in our RV, so things sometimes seemed....well....just a bit crowded.
Last night I was making barbecue brisket sandwiches for supper, and noticed....ummmm.......an odor.
Not a pleasant odor.
Not rose petals.
Not the wild honeysuckle that grows between our place and our neighbors.
Not the doggy odor of three wet dogs---well, yes, that too, but something else......
Some indefinable odor....
An unpleasant odor.
A bad odor.
A really bad odor.
So, being a mama and grandma, I asked if anyone had forgotten to flush the commode.
Or stepped in doggy poo, of which we had an abundance, especially since the canine trio are expert panhandler, and (especially Gracie the pug) pros at the sad, deprived, starving expression that elicits hot dog bits, stray chips, and all kinds of other non-doggy treats from gullible humans (naming no names, to protect the guilty).
It wasn't stinky sneakers.
Not damp towels that had been used again and again over three or four days.
Not something in the trash, since the trash had been taken out earlier.
It smelled like dead fish.
That's exactly what it was.
One of the dogs had found a dead catfish in the shore, and of course did what dogs do--she rolled in it. Apparently several times.
Unfortunately, baby shampoo, which is what I bathe Frankie with, does not take away eau de dead catfish.
Neither does lemon juice.
You just end up with a combination of flowers, dead fish, and a hint of citrus.
Not exactly the home fragrance one dreams about.
Poor Gracie. All those baths, and she still stunk.
But she still has those gorgeous eyes that just melt your heart.
(Note: I tried numerous times to upload a picture of a Boston terrier, but for some reason it just didn't work right. Sorry, Oreo.)