March 30, 2007

This week, the pound from where we adopted Ryder sent us a lovely message:

I am contacting you today to see how Ryder is doing. I know all of that group of dogs that came in were a lot of work when they came here and would continue to be a lot of work once they went home. I am hoping that you are going to tell me what a wonderful dog she is and that you are not having any problems with her at all. But I am also offering any advice I may be able to give if you are having any problems with her. How is she adjusting to apartment living? Have you had a chance to have her spayed yet? If you are ever in the area with her we would love to have her come in for a visit.

Of course, I was eager to write back:

Dear Humane Society,

Your dog does many wonderful things such as chewing socks, peeing on floors, and attacking electrical cords. You can definitely say she is ‘a lot of work.’ But the reason we love her is not because of all the things she destroys, but because she brings us awkwardly close to our friends. Just this weekend, for instance, I got to spend quality time naked with my best friend. And I owe this all to Ryder.

You see, it was a warm, sunny day and my Visionary Indian Friend and I decided to take the dog for a walk. Snow was melting on the ground, uncovering all the forgotten piles of poo that winter buried.

And let me tell, Ryder goes crazy over shit. As soon as she sensed that poo was in the air, she started rushing around, panting desperately, and eating every single pile of poo she could find. Most of the time, she decided to roll around in poo before gorging herself with it. She’s awesome like that.

By the time we got back to the car she was several shades of deeper brown that when we first started the walk. I tried to rub some of the poo off her coat, but my hands got brown and stinky. In the end, we just shoved the dog in the car. “It can’t be that bad,” we said. And boy, were we wrong! In a matter of minutes the car stank like a public washroom. Not even opening the windows seemed to help any.

Thus, as soon as we got home we had no choice but to jump out of our clothes and wrestle the dog into the bathtub. Washing a squirmy, wet dog was definitely a challenge. By the end of it, my Visionary Indian Friend and I were naked, wet, scratched, and smelly.

I can’t think of lovelier ways to spend my weekends. Thank you, Humane Society!