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Tropical Breezes

February 28, 2013

One...two...three...testing. Is this thing on...hello, hello. Oh, look it IS typing! Mom said it would; all I had to do was bark into the microphone. Uh...maybe I should explain. You see, the granddaughter, mother calls her Sunshine, is sick and she had to leave to take care of her. Meaning she’s not able to meet her deadline. I’m Bonnie by the way, not to toot my own horn but Border Collies are the smartest breed, and I AM the smarter half of the canine crew. Clyde, the other crew half, is sleeping under the desk, as always. Anyway, mother has this fancy speaking software and set it to ‘canine’ then asked me to tell everyone the story this week. Okay, let’s do this.

Once upon a time... No, that’s really not the ambiance I’m looking for. Let’s see... Long, long ago a fairy princess... No, that’s not it either. I know! In a beautiful palace lived the two most amazing canines ever. Yes, that’s it! So one day, they were lovingly sprawled beneath their mother’s feet as she toiled tirelessly at her prose. Sniffing the air ever so precariously, mother, or as she likes to call herself “the one who loves us” announced her adoring canines would be the recipients of a bath, and with haste. Sniffing the air myself, I ascertained that Clyde may have been overly malodorous but it wasn’t ode de fur. In retrospect, I’d venture that he was suffering from a bout of flatulence. Then again, what male doesn’t? Oh that was rich. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha Oh, excuse me, unsure how much artistic humor I can interject.

Anyway, given the moisture prone atmospheric conditions, four days passed without so much as a mention of shampooing. Honestly, I thought it slipped her mind. Then Sunday favored cleansing when the sun shone and temperatures soared. Thus the one who loves us decided ‘twas a fine day for bathing. Of course, anyone with canines knows a bath is always preceded by a thorough brushing to eradicate excess fur. Clyde’s fur...

“Huh? Did I hear my name? Is it time for a treat?”

“Shush Clyde, I’m narrating and need to concentrate.”

Where was I... Oh yes, Clyde has very long fur; in dog language, endless clumps of loose undercoat. In other words, mother started brushing him in the kitchen until loose fur flew all over her, the floor, the cabinets and under the table. The task too daunting, the one who loves us decided to resume brushing after church.

Upon her arrival home we relocated to the backyard where she feverishly brushed Clyde, keeping him downwind so the breeze wouldn’t blow fur back in her face. After enough fur to knit sweaters for three litters of pups adorned the yard, mother, grasping her lower back, slowly stood and suggested we “walk it off.”

Oh joy, joy! Excited by the announcement of a romp through town my wits temporarily left me as I jumped on mother’s bed. Barking loudly I kept shouting encouragement, “Walk! Walk! Walk!” Even Clyde was spinning around in circles on the carpet. Yes, we were going for a walk!

“Huh? What?”

“Go back to sleep Clyde, I’m still writing. And what fun, I can see why mother enjoys it so.”

Let’s see... Oh yes, we walked downtown and even added two extra blocks. What amazing sights and sounds there were. As soon as we returned though, mother gathered items together to bathe us, like we wouldn’t notice. Yep, towels, tropical breeze shampoo, large bath mat...what dog wouldn’t know it was about to take the plunge. Clyde...“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll take another treat. I’ll be a good boy.”

“Shhh...you’re dreaming.”

Anyway, he always goes first because it takes his fur longer to dry. After our bath, Clyde was brushed again. You know, he does look like he’s lost twenty pounds. Then we got a real treat. Mother clipped the hair on top of our paws and under our pads. I don’t know about him, but it just feels so much more feminine not having all that fur between my toes.

Hey, I’ve finally reached the gist of the story. Guess I am my mother’s canine, long-woofed, too. Anyway, the one who loves us decided to trim our toenails since we don’t go for many walks in the winter, so our nails grow longer. Suddenly, while clipping Clyde’s pinky toenail she nipped the quick. He took it like a trooper and only let out a slight whimper.

Mother, on the other hand, about passed out. First she grabbed some antiseptic spray and doused his paw. Not satisfied she kept fussing about, then grabbed the first aid kit. I heard her mumble something about a tourniquet, or maybe a sling, so I rushed in to reassure her it was nothing serious; hardly worth a second thought. Clyde had already forgotten about it because he was sitting by the treat jar...drooling. Yet mother insisted. So as you can see by the picture Clyde sported a gauze pad on his little toe for all of five minutes until it fell off.

Satisfied, the one who feeds us said we could go outside. Then I realized all the drama affected her sense of reason as she called after us, “You can play, just don’t get dirty!” You know...we might smell like tropical breeze today, but by the time you peruse this column atmospheric conditions will have gone moisture prone again and we’ll smell like our old selves. Sigh...it’s good to be a dog.

Can you imagine...gauze on your pinky?

Woof, woof, woof!

 

CanYouImagine@charter.net | www.Bobbi-G.com |www.Facebook.com/BobbiGSpeaks

 

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