You found something unusually nasty.

Question:
What's your response?

Note: Its OK to post for your dog, if you don't want them to know your Sigforum password, because they'll share it with the cat, and you know where that would lead.

Choices:
Roll in it. There'll be a hated bath but roll in it.
Eat it.
Both.

 

Not enough choices.

The correct answer is:

Roll in it first, then eat it, barf it back up and eat it again, then go in the house and barf it up on the carpet.

Moose would definitely do both. He's pretty dumb. And probably in the manner that PHPaul described.

When my wife and I first got Cheyenne we had just bought our house, didn't have kids yet, and were both working full-time. Cheyenne stayed in her kennel during the day, and I'd come home on lunch break to let her out, and my wife got home from work about an hour before I did in the evening. One night we'd unknowingly made the huge mistake of letting her have some steak scraps after dinner. She was fine in the morning, and fine at lunch, but apparently it worked through her by the afternoon.

I came home from work to an absolutely horrific smell, and my wife crying in the living room. Apparently, Cheyenne had had diarrhea in her kennel, and then ate it. When my wife got home to let her out, she slipped by her and ran into the living room and puked it back up all over the floor. My wife had just finished cleaning up the floor, the dog, and the kennel when I arrived. I opened all the windows and told my wife we were going out to dinner while it aerated...no way was I eating in that house!

Thankfully, our house was a fixer-upper in pretty rough shape and the living room carpet had to go anyway. That incident accelerated the timetable on that project a bit!

The most loving dog I ever had found a bag of decaying fish, near a pond, probably left there by the kids.

He rolled in it.

When he came home, I was upset.

I regret being upset with him. I learned my lesson.

Dogs are dogs.

Y’all know what liquid fertilizer is? No? Lemme tell you something about growing up in farm country. Dairy farmers have concrete troughs that run from the feeding and milking pens and gather in a cistern. Cow poop and pee is intermittently rinsed out and into these troughs, and fills the cistern. The diary I worked chores at in high school had a dead baby calf laying in the gathering pool for the cistern one morning, so I assume all manner of large solid wastes are just thrown in there to ferment as well.

Anyway, in the summertime after planting the alfalfa and corn fields, the farmers pump these cisterns into a tractor-pulled liquid fertilizer sprayer with a huge tank on it. The smell is ungodly, you can’t get away from it. It carries for miles and it’s unmistakable.

One day, the farmer who owned the fields that abutted the northern boundaries of our property, the same farmer whose farm I helped work chores on with the cistern fed with dead baby calves, was spraying said fertilizer on said fields. Our dog Hans decided he needed to check this out. Imagine a 120lb German Shepherd with floppy Black Lab ears courtesy of his crossed AKC parent’s pedigree sprinting out the front door and through several acres of fields, kicking up liquids and solids in his wake to greet the farmer on his tractor. Picture, if you can, this nitwit loping through a barren corn field behind this tractor sprayer, ears flopping around as he pranced with joy in the stream of this liquid foulness. Can you picture the farmer yelling and waving at him, as you watch in horror from a couple hundred yards away through binoculars? Here and again, Hans would stop and roll around in this stuff, really working it into his coat. You know, really grind around in it. Then he’d walk get up and roam around, looking for big chunks of… solid matter to chew on. When he’d tire of that, he’d up and run over to jump and bite at the stream spraying out of the spreader like something out of commercial for a dog toy, or children’s back yard summer sprinkler gone horribly wrong.

This went on for most of the day. Calling, yelling to him, offering treats and food and whatever, all to no avail. Somewhere in there, the farmer gave up trying to wave him off and just accepted that he had company for this vile job. All we could do was occasionally go outside and brave the distant, but all-too-present smell wafting our way to watch in dreadful anticipation of our dimwits canine friend bringing it home. When he finally ate and bathed his fill many hours later, we were greeted by a sight I can’t even describe wagging its tail at the back sliding glass door. Of course he was grinning. We slipped a choker on him so he couldn’t wriggle free, and sprayed him off with a hose as far away from the house as it would reach. A hearty percentage of a bottle of dog shampoo didn’t even put a dent in it - he smiled like concentrated, fermented shit and dog shampoo. Poor sumbitch slept in the garage for a week, and damned if he didn’t have that “it was totally worth it” vibe the whole time.

The farmer would call us and warn us he was coming to fertilize after that, and our floppy-eared rapscallion would watch through the window with brows furrowed in consternation at all the fun he was missing out on. I miss him.

Living in farm country I'm well acquainted with that of which you speak. And your telling of that story was masterful...I can totally picture it, and even smell it lol.

Of the four Chows that have owned me, all would say neither. The husky/wolf would roll in it but not eat it.

quote:

Originally posted by PHPaul:
Not enough choices.

The correct answer is:

Roll in it first, then eat it, barf it back up and eat it again, then go in the house and barf it up on the carpet.

You’ve owned a lot of dogs I see.

One time when I was a kid we went camping up by Crested Butte. It was fall and cold as hell and the lake we were fishing was pretty low. Our little terrier Spooky was running around just having a great time. That sumbitch got into a dead fish and rolled in it. It stunk so freakin' bad. The ride back to camp in the CJ5 was unbearable. Too cold to have the windows down. That poor dog had to have a bath outdoors at about 35 degrees. Didn't help that much either. Funked up the trailer something fierce. It took days, and more baths at home, for that smell to go away completely. A dog will honestly eat the ass out of a dead skunk.

Our current pup, a Rottweiler, would eat it. Thankfully, none of the dogs I’ve owned so far were ‘rollers’.

- Bret

quote:

Originally posted by 92fstech:
Living in farm country I'm well acquainted with that of which you speak. And your telling of that story was masterful...I can totally picture it, and even smell it lol.

They used to spread the "sludge" from the city sewer treatment plant on sewer property and haul it to farms in the area. It stinked.