A post should appear every Sunday

Sunday January 28th 2024

Because it has become virtually impossible to find anywhere mud free to take Isis, it is often necessary to clean her feet.

Now Isis, of course is not partial to having her feet cleaned. There are many and varied ways of approaching this task, and, over the muddy years, we try all of them:

the hosepipe which makes poor Isis hysterical – and, anyway, it’s much too cold for that except on warm, dry days, and on warm, dry days, her feet are quite likely to be clean

An unimpressed Isis after a watering can job.

full immersion in the sink – but I struggle to lift her nowadays; additionally, this entails a thorough root and branch sink clean

plunging her ankle deep into a large bowl – it’s too cold to do this outside, and doing it inside entails cleaning the whole kitchen floor, which is a pain

and any combination of these strategies, which may be feasible outside in the summer, but is extremely messy inside in the winter.

And don’t forget, they all involve a reluctant hairy animal who is intent on one thing only – escape.

We have, however, cracked it at last, and this is how.

Our last task before we leave the house is to close all of the doors which open onto the hall. This will preempt any muddy pawed bid to wipe off all the dirt on the rug or the day bed.

On our return, Human leads Canine towards the house with an exaggeratedly casual air, sauntering across the pavement, through the gate and up the step with a gait so laid-back it’s bordering on horizontal. This is to ward off any suspicions Isis could have that her feet are about to be washed.

Once we reach the porch, we remove the Hairy One’s lead and harness. This is our usual daily routine when returning from a walk. In the past I’ve left them on, thinking that it will be easier to shepherd her down the hall to the kitchen. Silly me. The break in routine will immediately arouse her suspicion, and, once hauled unceremoniously over the threshold, she will glue herself to the mat and refuse to budge. I have even, on occasions dragged her along the floor, still attached to the mat, but this is not only damned hard labour, it’s also a sure way of winding her up before we even begin the ablutions.

No, we’ve learned the hard way; so now, leaving behind lead and harness, she strolls calmly down towards the back room. Finding the door closed, she pauses just long enough for me to whip open the kitchen door, push her inside, and close the door behind us.

It’s a galley kitchen, so there’s nowhere to hide. While she is standing hopefully next to the door, thinking the situation over, I fetch her personal washing up bowl and plastic jug, reach into her cupboard below the sink, and take out her shampoo. I fill the bowl with warm water, and place one towel in front of it for her to stand on, and one behind it for her to step onto once a foot is clean.

I dip the jug into the warm water until it’s half full, place it next to a front paw, gently guide the paw into the jug, and hold it in place while I dab on a little shampoo. Then I massage the shampoo gently into her hairy foot, and swish the water around it.

If I place a paw into the big bowl, there’s too  much space for paw sploshing, and we soon end up with a swamp, but the jug is quite narrow, just wide enough for her paw and my hand, so there’s no room for silly games. Now I swill the mud-black soup down the sink, dip into the bowl for warm rinsing water, and pop her paw back into the jug. When one paw’s clean and rinsed, I squeeze it very gently, and place it on the dry towel.

When all four paws are clean, I pat them with a towel to soak up the drips. She hates having her paws dried, and discretely bares her teeth – she doesn’t growl though, because she knows that if a dog forgets herself and growsl at Human, she most definitely will not get a treat when the ordeal is over.

When we’re done, I whip into the back room, roll up her nice new blanket, and put her largest dog towel in its place, so that the blanket will be dry and comforting for her once her feet are completely dry.

It would, of course, be more sensible to do this before we leave the house, but I always forget.

There’s very little water on the kitchen floor, and only two damp little dog towels to hang to dry, so I’m very smug about our foot washing routine.

It only took nine years for me to come up with this efficient approach.

But then, nobody’s perfect.

Isis came from Aeza cat and dog rescue in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@azea.org or go to http://www.dogwatch.co.uk.