inglorious mud

 

 

Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra ‘news flashes’!

 

Wednesday November 25th 2015


After her visit to RSPCA Newbrook Farm, Hairy One’s anal glands are no longer a source of discomfort and she returns to ‘normal’. She no longer attacks her back feet day and night, but only when she wishes to air a grievance. What a relief.

One evening, as I settle on the futon with my veggies and cheese sauce, I am confronted by a ferocious foot grab. Oh no. What the hell’s the matter with her now?

“Don’t be so silly”, I snap. (I know she can’t hear me, but one has to vent one’s frustration now and then.)

She continues to snarl and foot grab. As the futon mattress heaves up and down, I do my best to ignore her. It is not the most relaxing of dining experiences.

I’ve almost finished eating before I notice that after each attack she stops with her foot in her mouth and lifts her head towards me coyly. Isis loves vegetables. Like most dogs, she loves cheese even more.

The penny drops: she’s carrying on because she’d like my cheesy vegetables please.

Sure enough, as soon as the plate is taken away she settles down and goes to sleep.

Really!

 

*******

It rains and rains, then rains some more. Yet again, the mud patch takes on the aspect of a nascent swamp. Then, as we prepare to leave for our morning walk, the sun comes out.

****!

This is the worst of all combinations for poor Isis: there’s no way that I can let her play in the garden and she’s afraid of the sun and shadows everywhere else.

I look at her hopeful little face.  I tell her that it’s too muddy to go out.

I look at her face again.

I let her out.

She can’t be kept in all day, I decide, even with a new supply of cardboard boxes to destroy. It would be unkind. She’s much too energetic and desperate to be free.

She hits the ground running.

 

 

IMG_2522

 

And very soon she no longer looks like this. In fact there is hardly a hint of white anywhere on her scruffy person.

She’ll just have to have a very thorough wash tonight.

Not unreasonably, Isis does not care for being washed. But I believe that if she had the choice she’d go for the garden and a wash rather than no garden and no wash.

After about ninety minutes, the sun goes in. Great. We’ll go to the park.

But Isis has different ideas. Attached to her lead, she digs all of her hairy little toes into the muddy surface. Then she does her bucking bronco act, attempting to shake me off.

She’s been deprived of her garden for days. She has no intention of leaving it now.

Fair enough.

She stays outside for six hours, sussing out new scents, leaping up in the air and trotting round with her mouth full of sticks.

Eventually, I bring her in, remove a stuck stick from the roof of her mouth, pop her in the sink and begin to wash off the many layers of mud. Although she hates it, she is very good. When her legs are touched she growls menacingly. But she never attempts to bite.

Once more I search the net for an affordable surface for a mad dog to play on. Artificial grass for even a small area costs around two thousand pounds. I’m now investigating turf overlaid with rubber matting grass protection.

Is there a dog owner out there who has any suggestions?

 

Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk

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