Debbie ~ Water in a stream = good ~ Water falling from the sky = bad

For many people Spring is a beautiful thing. Me? Not so much.

For me, a dog hoarder in training, Spring means shit – literally. Spring also means mud. Spring means, “it’s raining mom, how in the hell can you expect me to go out in that?”. Spring means dog bladders full to the point of discomfort and obvious immobilization. I mean really, how can you feel spunky when you have to pee like wildfire or your bowels are backing up into your stomach?

It rains a lot in April and May.

A reprieve. When the rain stops I find myself trying to convince the beasts that the rain is in fact over. It is safe to venture out. Really – it’s true!

This involves a type of dog cheer-leading that embarrasses even myself. They are rounded up – we head out the door. Chi is immediately appalled by the wet ground. But he ventures forth brazenly, stopping to look back at me to gauge the intensity of my demand that he go. Tentatively he steps into the grass. Almost immediately he draws his paw back from what to him must feel like burning coals. He darts back into the house, maneuvering swiftly around me. Little bastard, I think.

Back in I go and harass his pampered little keaster out there. Reluctantly he goes. Chi wastes no time peeing and by the sheer volume I know that’s gotta feel good. Ike and Punk are out in the yard poking about. I look around for Debbie.

Of course she is in the house, perched on the top step of the doorway that leads out to the yard. She looks at me like a stone statue. A Yoda dog of sheer will. It is clear she plans on going nowhere. I let it go. Debbie has proven to me over the years that she has a bladder of steel. I swear the damn dog monitors her water intake in situations where she isn’t enthused about the thought of going out. I am dead serious.

She has gone without relieving herself from 5:30 in the evening to 5:30 the following evening. And never a drop of urine on the floor. She has no qualms about defecating however, but that too is extremely rare. Debbie is one of the most stubborn dogs I have ever met. At the same time she is the one most interested in pleasing me.

I am sure dog trainers everywhere cluck their tongues at the thought – but I let it go. The bathroom thing that is. If she isn’t going to pee in the house and she wants to suffer the pressure of urine rather than suffer a little moisture on her coat she can be my guest.

Additionally, Spring also means the thawing of poo. There is nothing that says Hello Spring! like a yard full of poop soup. I have a small yard ok, so for me Spring brings the horror of wet tootsies in the house that may or may not have traipsed through loose swirls of melting popsicle-esque poo. Ahck!!!

At least – at this point in the Spring – the snow is gone. The poop has been collected. Now it is time for the mud. Bring on the mud! So much mud… sigh. Rain = mud, mud on floor, mud on bed, mud on dog beds, mud on me when the desire to show me love requires a quick forbidden jump up.

Evening walks after a rain = mud. Walking mud requires toweling. Mud on towels. Mud on the undercarriages of dogs. Mud between the toes of dogs. Mud up and down the legs of dogs.

I love my dogs, I love my dogs, yes I love my dogs.

Filed under: Observations & Reflection