Relative Something

It has been a while since I put hours in at the day-job, and as a result, I have a fair backlog of stories to share that they haven’t heard regarding things that have happened at Wintervale. Yesterday, I was waxing eloquent on Delilah’s apparent preoccupation with wildlife scat and horse manure. As I spun my tales, I came to a funny story that I realized was worth posting here, and since I don’t recall having already written about it, I’m hoping I haven’t.

During the period that I was on leave, I worked on several outdoor projects that allowed me to grant Delilah the opportunity to roam freely, off-leash. She demonstrates such elation with being able to run free that it is a thrill to watch her, but since I would be trying to get some work done, there were times when I lost sight of where she was.

That was actually part of the training we have been working on. When we notice she seems to have disappeared, we call or whistle and she needs to return. Every time she does, she is rewarded with a treat or lavish affection, or both. Sometimes it takes a long time for her to return, long enough that I have usually grown frustrated and consider it a failed attempt. That presents a challenge, because she eventually does return, after all, and seems to expect a treat, but I’m reluctant because she didn’t come the first time I called.

Often times, when she doesn’t return immediately, it is because she has wandered off our property and is overly excited about exploring the unfamiliar territory of our neighbors. The plowed field just to our north is a particular favorite of hers. They weren’t able to plant any crop there last spring because it remained too wet for too long into the growing season. Instead, it became the place that our neighbor chose to dump fertilizer. He was putting some pretty stinky stuff on there from the local area dairy farms. I am pretty sure that is why Delilah likes it so much.

One damp day, after she eventually returned from a prolonged disappearance, she came back with what looked like muddy water soaking the fur around her head. It struck me as odd, because her head was dry, but I got the impression she had stuck her face into a puddle. I wondered how she could look wet around her face so thoroughly, but not show anything on her face or the top of her head. When she got close enough to me, I quickly discovered it wasn’t muddy water. She stunk something awful. There must have been a puddle of sewage up in that field somewhere.

It smelled so bad, I didn’t want to be near her. I went back to my project and hoped she would wear it off just by running through the grass, goofing off while I worked. Hours later, when Cyndie arrived home at the end of her work day, I had honestly forgotten about the mess Delilah had gotten into earlier. We all walked into the house through the front door together and Delilah jumped all over Cyndie and her nice suit, behaving like the over-excited puppy that she is, deliriously thrilled to have momma home.

“What is that smell?!” Cyndie choked.

Oops. The afternoon of activity had not done anything to get rid of the odor. It just served to dry the foul mixture into her fur. Delilah was marched right down to the tub for a good scrubbing.

Even after the bath, it seemed as though that stink lingered in her fur for a surprising amount of time. I imagine she was probably pretty proud about that.

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