Yesterday I found myself apologising to friends for the worst than usual "doggy smell" in the living room. Not only does it smell of damp dogs but minutes before they arrived we had a Captain Shitalot accident. As is the cases with incontinence, he doesn't know he's doing it, so he usually does it as he's walking about. (or in his sleep) Yes there was a lot of shit and with impending visitors I just rolled up the vet beds, threw them out and replaced them.
On the field walk, Loki had taken a tumble, there was no one near him, just his brain going too quickly for his legs. He went down on his side, then couldn't get up. He tried to get him self over and up, but failed. By the time I got to him, he was like an up turned turtle eating a carrot, yes the toy was still in his mouth! Seeing that he wasn't distressed I just tickled his belly and we had a giggle about it before gently giving him the support he needed to get up, he was lame on his front for two or three steps, and then he was off!
Anyway, this morning I feel less apologetic about the smell, and the damp and the hair. My home is what it is because of the choices I've made, these dogs are the best choices I've made and without them my life would simply be an existence. Not that I needed reassuring but just to give me a little extra boost the words of the late and greatly missed Patrick Swayze were quoted on Facebook this morning, "They told me my house smelled like dogs, and I asked them, do you know what a dog smells like?" It smells like gratitude, loyalty, nobility, affection, pure unconditional love. And in spite of all they've been through, they smell no resentment. So blessed that my house smells like dogs." (OK, maybe a bit out of context, but you get my drift!)
