Smelly Dog, Smelly Dog / What are you rolling in? / Smelly Dog, Smelly Dog / It's not your fault!
Well. Saturday, we managed to get Zelda into the bath without too much fuss, now that Dudley had lent his seal of approval to the bathroom. Also helpful: That Iain was home to lift her into the tub while I sat on the edge of the bath, showing that nothing was hurting me in there. The bath is such a fun place! Wheeeeeeeeeeeee! She was a very Good Girl while I scrubbed her, rinsed her, and blew her (mostly) dry. And, at the end of it, she smelled good again!
That is, until about two hours ago, when she found another pile of the same mucky black stuff in our backyard and rolled in it again. I suspect the irresistible gunk is deer scat.
Fortunately, I managed to pull her away before she had much opportunity to luxuriate in FILTH, and I was able to wash her up with a little lavender soap and some soaked towels. "You are such a stinker! Literally!" I told her, laughing, while I scrubbed her neck. She grinned and lolled her tongue at me.
"I love smelling like poop!"
