I was going to give D’Argo a bath later this week in preparation for the agility trial but D’Argo changed those plans. Last night he was out for an unusually long time, so I went to find him in the dark. He came trotting up to me when I called, unusual for him, and when I bent down to check for sand burs I was hit with an overwhelming reek coming from D’Argo’s face. Whatever he ate was absolutely disgusting (and I have a pretty strong tolerance for odors). I washed off his face before I brought him in, but vowed he would get bathed in the morning.
The odor had faded a bit over night, but when I went to brush D’Argo after his morning romp, it was clear he had reapplied his “perfume”. I had to find the source or the bath would be for naught. Luckily the smell was strong enough that even my poor human sense of smell could locate it: a partially eaten, decomposing gopher. Looking around the yard, I found a newly dug terrier hole, and the picture became all too clear. Last night D’Argo unearthed a decomposing gopher, and ate part of his Halloween treat, which he then rolled on in the morning. I can best describe the smell as “silage juice”, and any of my family members who have taken their dog to my sister’s farm, can attest to the horrid smell, which the dogs seem to revel in. I suppose the odor makes sense in light of a gopher’s diet, but it’s just about the worst smell in the world.
I thought I’d keel over when the warm water hit D’Argo’s scented fur, and it took two washings to get the smell out. Well D’Argo got his treat, and played a nasty trick on me, all in one.
East of 36th 