When the temperature hit the mid eighties today, knew it was time...and perfect timing. It's my last day off until Monday and could barely stand the smell of our three dogs.
The above photo shows them in our backyard when we lived in Georgia, where winter is wet and summer is dry.
Have quickly learned it's dry as dust in Orlando during the winter months, even though still in the eighties most days.
It rains almost every day in the summer months and sometimes two or three. Every thing is lush, green and vibrant.
I guess could use my sprinkler every day and run our water bill up to keep the grass green like the one neighbor down the street, but ain't gonna happen in a temp rental house.
Back in Georgia at least when they scrubbed on their backs, had a little bit of grass and hard Georgia red clay. Down here, they scrub on no grass and black sand/dirt.
So I'm a slow learner...duh!
I kept thinking it was some Florida thing. My house, especially my bedroom always smells like someone just cooked and burned breakfast sausage.
I hate breakfast food.
I'm a night owl.
It took me a while to get used to smelling the water while taking a shower or brushing my teeth.
I had to buy a Brita filter and pitcher just to have water to drink at the house.
I figured the burnt sausage smell was something else you had to get used to when moving to Florida.
Seems it was my three stinking dogs.
We have an oldest, blind dog who doesn't get along with our youngest more playful one.
It freaks (blind) Ham out when Ziggy, with his freakazoid self runs up or tries to play, which quickly turned into dog fights.
And then we have Charlie...also known as Switzerland.
He's okay with being with either dog.
He's neutral to the max.
Actually, he's too lazy to be bothered by either of them...or any thing.
So Massey and I took them out to the front yard today, one by one to bathe and de-burnt sausage that awful smell.
Ham went first.
He's blind and if out of the house he's come to finally know wall by wall and room by room, especially in the front yard where they never are, is a nervous wreck.
He started shaking before we ever put the hose on him. He smelled the most like burnt sausage so got the first appointment. We both soaped and scrubbed him, then did it again.
I took him for a walk to dry off while Massey brought Charlie out, burnt sausage number two of three.
The minute Massey put the hose on him, his coat turned from white to black from scrubbing in the backyard black sand of Orlando.
While she bathed Charlie, I walked Ham on a leash up one side of the sidewalk to dry off, then crossed the street and led him back, crossing once again. For a blind dog, the old man did great.
Ham is the best dog ever.
Then I dragged Charlie on the same walk after his bath. I didn't need a leash, I needed a cattle prod. He schlumped up one side of the sidewalk, huffed and puffed across the street and stopped to pee twice...never hiking his leg but instead squatted like a girl.
Then I went back to hand off Chas to Massey and get Ziggy who was just getting finished being de-burnt sausaged.
Strong as an ox, weighs almost as much as me and insistent at plowing ahead. (we need to work on the leash thing) We got three houses down and I got a cramp in my foot from trying to hold him back...from nothing!!
We made it to the next house, with me pulling him back like a frothing idiot.
A woman pulled into her driveway and sat in her car like I was walking Cujo past her.
Suddenly the smell of burnt breakfast sausage is gone.
My house now smells like an issue of Better Home and Garden...the "Scent" issue.
Number one, will never eat breakfast sausage again.
Number two, am buying a lot more dog shampoo and every day when over eighty degrees am bathing my hounds. It's not like they can do it for their self or even know when to ask me to do it... for them.
But I do.
Yes I'm crazy...have been for quite some time, but have always been loved.
Sometimes crazy is good.
Being loved is amazing.
Sure beats being Apathetic.
Til next time...COTTON