I make no secret of the fact I am dog mad. I go through my life safe in the knowledge that one of these days I will be known as ‘that funny woman at the end of the road with all those dogs’. My ambition is not to run ICI it is to be a shambolic old dog owner with hairy trousers, baggy jumpers and a clump of mis-matched mongrel quadropeds to keep me company as I shamble around.
I have never been dog free. Never. Not even when I left home for the first time. I have had Stumpy, from Battersea dogs home, Jack from a drain in London, Mullet the stray Collie I took back from Ireland, Flora half dog half womble who would win a Greyfriars Bobby look-a-like contest even if Greyfriars Bobby himself was in it and Sam the bam, labrador or near enough, turfed out on her ear just before Christmas a few years ago by some eejit.
Suffice to say I am not a powder puff, shampoo and set kind of dog owner. They are scruffy mutts one and all. But the exception to all grooming issues is Flora, whose tummy is about 2″ from the floor, not because she is fat but she is so low slung. Her legs are only about 3″ long so since the weather dried off and the temperature rose she was becoming increasingly knotted, and sweaty and frankly smelly with her hair full of leaves and sticks.
When I take her out she plunges into any source of water/liquid she can find. A puddle, the water of leith, the sea, a small pool of oil that had dripped from under a neighbours car. She was a flammable hairy horror so today I took action and dragged her and her horrible hair mass to Christines, in Gorgie Road, Edinburgh.
Shaky and quaky, Flora not Christine, I left her in the very capable hands of Emma and went off home to get on with the day.
At 2pm I suddenly realised I hadn’t had an over powering waft of something vile for ages and the reason was the source of wafting was still at the dog grooming parlour. Driving at 29 mph all the way officer I burst in the door to meet Emma clutching Flora who has the look of a dog who is not amused.
She smells wonderful, her hair is a silken purse but her attitude still stinks.
12 hours on I can report she is happy. More than happy she is what I would call coquettish as she has realised Jocky , the Scottie along the road has fallen in love with her. What we will do with this love sick hairy old man dog? We are too busy laughing to care as Jocky aka Romeo is on one side of the backdoor and Flora aka Juliet is on the other deliberately pinned up to the door itself so the space under the door allows puffs of her new scented coat to slip through. Jocky is beside himself. Flora for once is enjoying a little attention from the opposite sex and as a result has forgiven me for her coiffure so all’s well. I am off to buy a hat and will post a wedding photo if things go well.
