BY DARREN HANDSCHUH
I have found a new definition for disgusting.
My dog showed me that just when I thought a hound cannot possibly be any more gross – such as eating their own vomit, which he has done – Murphy has found a way to make barf-as-a-snack seem almost, and I stress the world almost, palpable.
It happened during the winter cold snap. We let the mutt outside to frolic in the snow as per usual and thought nothing of it.
However, when he came back in the house he had something in his mouth. Now, this is not an unusual occurrence either. He often finds little dog treasures that he packs around and as usual, we checked to see what it was in case it isn’t good for the dumb little beast.
It turns out what he was chomping on was not good for anyone.
After grabbing hold of him and prying his jaws apart it turned out his ‘treasure’ was a frozen half of a mouse carcass left in the backyard by the cat.
I warned you it was disgusting.
The little mutt was clamped down on the fur and skull of the field vermin and was obviously thrilled to be in possession of such a wonderful find.
After getting him to relinquish his prize, it took me a second to realize just what it was.
I had to take a close look for a few seconds to figure it out. That’s when I noticed his prize had an eyeball that was staring at me and the realization of what it was hit me in the stomach.
Let’s just say I skipped breakfast that day and it once again reaffirmed why I do not let dogs lick me – ever.
A dog is man’s best friend, everyone knows that, but why do they have to be so darn disgusting. Couldn’t we get a best friend with better culinary habits.
Or even a best friend with a different bathing technique.
Ladies get diamonds as their best friend. Diamonds hold their value, are treasured around the world and will never fart in their sleep, eat their own barf or chew on dead things every opportunity they get.
There is not much a dog wouldn’t eat, especially if it is dead. The deader, the better seems to be the mongrel mantra.
Of course, if it is someone else’s dog, then it is just plain funny.
A few years back some friends joined us in walking our dogs near a river where we used to live. The river was part of the salmon run so it was not uncommon to find dead fish at the water’s edge, but their dog, a blue heeler cross, had found a fish that had been fermenting in the sun for a quite a while.
We did not realize the huge rotting fish was even there until we walked into what can only be described as a wall of smell.
It was literally a wall. One moment we could not smell a thing, and with the next step our nostrils were threatening to go on strike if we didn’t back up.
The odour was absolutely horrendous, which attracted the attention of Bear, my buddy’s best friend.
Bear was just starting to drop her shoulder for a roll in the steaming pile of rot when my buddy and his wife freaked and yelled the dog’s name so loud people in the next province could hear it.
The dog stood up and ran over - darn it.
I was less than a second away from one of the best laughs of the year. Had Bear managed to adorn herself in eau de rotting fish, they would have had to put up with the smell all the way home because there was no other place to put the dog than in the back of their vehicle.
But they were saved from the stinkiest ride in the history of car travel and I was robbed of a good laugh.
Of course, had it been my dog there would have been nothing funny about it.