One thing about the weather here in Illinois: predictably, it’s unpredictable!
All last week we were freezing with well below normal temperatures. Mom had on her fuzzy socks and flannel night clothes, lighting the fireplace (how did we live without it?) every evening.
Today, it is about 75, Mom has her shorts on, and the windows wide open to let in all the light and air.
So it’s a beautiful day! Mom decided this was a good opportunity to pick up the dog bombs in the back yard. She hooked me to my nice, long tether, donned a pair of disposable, plastic gloves, and armed herself with a few bags.
Mom busied herself with the task at hand. I was delighted to be outdoors, and stuck my nose as deeply into the grass (and weeds) as I could get it. Sniff! Aah, wonderful outdoors-y smells. The warm sun shone on my white fur and I felt content.
Then I uncovered a secret treasure: a dropping of cat poop from one of the feral cats that roam about in the yard. Mom was safely on the other side of the yard, up on the little hill, picking up poop.
Seeing my chance, I flopped on my back and I rolled in my rich, decadent treasure. Mom looked up and saw me on my back, smiling wide, and wriggling back and forth, back and forth. Mom laughed and said I was a “silly girl to be rolling in the grass” and went back to her task. I was as luxurious in that cat poop as a fine lady in a bubble bath.
Mom finished up her labors and stripped off the gloves, deposited them in the bags, and tightly tied them up. Depositing them in the trash bin, she then went over to the hose and sprayed her hands thoroughly. She gathered up my leash and came toward me to take me in the house, where she would give her hands a proper soaping up.
I sat up at Mom’s approach. Mom looked at my white coat and gasped audibly. She took a step closer, which happened to be downwind, and gagged. “Smelly!” she choked.
In no time flat she’d unhooked me, leashed me, and frog-marched me upstairs.
I had been well-pleased with myself but realized I looked a sorry lot for Mom. She shut the bathroom door firmly and I knew what that meant:
Time for a bath!
When I was dried off and not stinky anymore, Mom fixed my blue blanket on the bed and let me lie upon it. She patted my head and kissed me on the nose. She said she understood about the cat poop and that we all have to do these things, sometimes.
Here’s to sunny days, making messes, and then cleaning them up!
Woof! Your sparkling clean girl, Maggie