Hello peeps. I am currently writing a blog post which is (hold the front page!) somewhat serious and about how society views the disabled based on a robust study of, er, my experience. It’s not finished yet but, it’s Friday and we’re all locked down again so I thought you might like a little light relief. This week, as some of you know, I have spent my evenings on the sofa applying sudocrem to the crusty nipples of my spaniel. No, this is not a euphemism, I really have. This past-time reminded me of other occasions when she has proved to be a revolting, little Herbert – the number 1 slot currently (and, please God, always) occupied by her finding and rolling gleefully in a pile of human poo. She was covered. COVERED. She was as inordinately proud of herself as we were repulsed, trotting along merrily, smeared in faeces as we trailed, gagging, in her wake. No 2 on the list was the time she got what is known as lip fold pyoderma. The smell was so bad that I couldn’t stand being in the same room as her for very long and even she sat with her paws frequently over her nose. Since the stench was coming from her mouth, this was a foolish strategy but it did inspire me to poetry; she was my stinky muse. What that says about me is probably not worth dwelling on but here’s the result. Good weekends all.
Oh, wondrous spaniel, how particularly cute thou art
With limpid eyes and floppy ears, you steal our hearts
Until last Saturday.
Relaxing on the sofa in your usual state
You began to emanate
What can only be described as a f***ing awful smell.
At first it took us rather a long time to realise
That such a large stink could come from a dog your small size.
It cannot be her, we thought but all the same
We agreed not to put her near a naked flame
Until we had established the fact
That the pong was coming from her digestive tract.
Its aroma gathered strength around her mouth
And, luckily not from anywhere further south.
That said, the dreadful pungency around her snout
Was like someone opened the gates of hell and Beelzebub himself breathed out.
Husband was foolish enough to lean down and get
Rather close and, with tears in his eyes and visibly upset,
He said ‘We’d better get this bloody dog to the vet.’
Fortunately the trip to the vets is not very far
As no-one wanted to be trapped in the confines of a car
With this malodorous puppy.
The vet sprang into action as soon as he was able
And lifting the spaniel up onto the examining table
Declared ‘Holy shit!’* and liberally applied the Hibiscrub
As well as prescribing several powerful drugs
To battle the horrific pong.
It turns out, dear reader, that little spaniels, however cute
Have wrinkly lips, a design fault that doesn’t suit
Anyone who wishes to avoid the kind of stench
That makes eyes water and buttocks clench.
Food gathers in these folds
And sticks there til rather old
Not helped by the time she’s spent
Scoffing the ripe excrement
Of many species.
I’m pleased now to be able to report
The spaniel smells more like it ought
But if you like spaniels I think it’s only fair
If getting one you are aware
That before you fall under their spell
They have a strong tendency to smell
*Well known veterinary technical term.