"Ode" to the Dirty Dog . . .

I have been taking care of our neighbor's two golden retrievers this past week. The farm dog and long-haired dog thing doesn't go together very well. At least that is what I think.

Anyway, I biked over to take care of them this afternoon and Mabel, the younger dog, wasn't there. A few minutes later she came running from around the barn. She was covered in manure. Fresh manure. And she stank . . . really bad.

I grew up on a farm, so manure isn't gross to me. But when it is on a dog that wants to jump on you and that you have to feed and pet and . . . yeah. Mabel looked at me with a pitiful, sad expression. My heart and hand almost went out to her . . . almost, but it didn't.

I really wanted to spray her off with the hose. But she was avoiding me because she knew I wasn't happy with her.

We still went on our walk to the creek, which was great because Mabel went in the water, and sadly--for her-- all most of the manure was cleaned off of her. I was sad too, because Mabel shook diluted manure and creek water on me.