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Wednesday, December 17, 2014

I Needed to Wash My Willy!

It’s been so hot, almost 40 degrees 'apparent' temperature. That’s the temperature it feels like when you add in the freakin hideous humidity factor. 

I felt so sorry for my German Shepherd, Borat with his long woolly coat I thought I’d better give him a haircut.

I spent hours today, back bent, brushing out his moulting hair and filled three shopping bags with it. 

At some stage I looked over to spy an extremely grubby silky terrier, Willy lurking behind the pot plant. He watched me with his shifty eyes wary of the fact he might be next in line. 


He sported more dreadlocks than a Rastafarian and if I’d put a little red, green and gold knitted cap on him he could have busked on the street reggae style to Buffalo Soldier and made a small fortune.

The thing is, you can’t let on to Willy he’s about to have a bath or he runs away and hides somewhere impossible to reach. Like when he squeezes himself between the wall and the air-conditioner and if you try to pull him out he bites like a little fricken mofo.

So I had to come up with a plan. I had to beat this dog at his own devious game and decided to trick him with a sausage left over from last night’s dinner.

I snuck up silently; whisking him up in one fell swoop as he unsuspectingly inhaled the sausage. Then I carried him as he viciously struggled and screamed out, “Me is well conscious of what you is doin’ to I! Dis is fockin bullshit mun! Kiss mi backside fassyhole!”

But somehow I managed to plunge him snout deep in the cool, soapy water in the laundry tub before he could sink his menacing, bitey, little teeth into my arm.

You would not believe the stuff that came floating out of that mucky, little terrier. I think it's entirely possible there were other lifeforms enjoying a symbiotic relationship within his dreads which I unintentionally drowned and washed down the sink during that bath: a species of lichen, barnacles, some coral, a hermit crab… and maybe a couple of clownfish.

I gave Willy a haircut (the Wednesday Wacky Style special) and released him back into the yard so he could go and roll in something disgusting again.

Rotting bones and poo-poo probably.

Washed your dog or cat lately? Did they enjoy it?

"If yuh sleep wid dawg, yuh ketch im flea"
Bob Marley (or possibly not).