You might think twice before
allowing a dog to give you a big wet kiss if you know what I know. I also want
to apologize in advance to all dog lovers. I remain an admirer of dogs, just
from a distance where my face is out of reach of their over-exuberant tongues.
As a child growing up in the boonies
of Alabama we
had a succession of dogs, some memorable and some I'd rather forget. One thing
they all had in common is a trait all dogs everywhere participate in with
gusto, one in which prevents me to this day from allowing a dog anywhere near
my mouth.
Early on in life, while still
blissfully unaware, I had no qualms in allowing the current family's dog the
liberty of
indulging itself in a round of good-natured face-licking. After all
this is for most people one of the most endearing aspect of canine ownership,
letting the mutt shower them with doggie kisses for as long as the dogs owner
could stand it. The pooch thinks it is showing its owner the proper display of
submissive behavior and affection and believe me when I tell you that a dog
will slobber all over you as long as you allow it.
As I said before, my early years
were spent in blissful unawareness of Fido's hygienic tendencies. Thinking
about that very aspect of doggie behavior today brings back the gag reflex I
experienced when I finally discovered, far too late unfortunately, how the mutt
went about its daily ablutions.
The dog we had at the time, if I
recall, was a stray that sort of drifted in one day and decided to stay and see
which way the wind blew. To give credit where credit is due I will say that dog
was a champion walker. I remember it was a scorching hot August day. One of
those kind of days where the air was thick and hard to breath. Anyway I was
lounging on the front porch, enjoying a cold drink, and not paying attention to
anything in particular. A movement caught my eye and I saw our dog coming down
the road towards the house, returning from who knows what type of foray. Needless
to say this aroused my attention. I stood up and wandered over to see what had
gotten the dog all excited. Arriving on the scene my eyes were met with the
disgusting spectacle of the dog rolling in the partially decomposed remains of
some poor creature that wasn't able to dodge fast enough. The way the dog was
carrying on you would have thought he had discovered the next greatest scent
guaranteed to sweep the lady dogs off their feet. He spent a good ten minutes
covering every square inch of his body with the essence of the carcass. My plan
was to casually walk by him (holding my breath of course), enter the front
door, and escape quietly out the back door and make for the hills as fast as my
legs would carry me for the remainder of the day. Just about when I put my hand
on the door handle to let myself in I noticed the dog engaged in yet another of
the favorite pastimes of dogs everywhere. He had commenced licking himself over
every inch of his body that he could reach. Some morbid part of me wanted to
see just how far and how long this dog would go with this spectacle.
For a good half hour I bore witness
as this dog slurped himself from stem to stern, spending an inordinate amount
of time in the stern area if you get my meaning. With disgust and fascination I
watched the whole gruesome process, sitting down at some point to see if it
would help the nausea I felt coming on.
Once his ablutions were over he
licked his chops as if he had just finished a choice sirloin, set his sights on
me, and before I could react, pounced towards me with a twinkle in his eye and
a bounce in his step. Upon later reflection I finally reasoned he wanted to
thank me for "sharing" the experience by offering me some of that
love and affection dogs are famous for.
Instinct took over at that point and
I engaged in a hasty retreat, crab-walking backwards with the dog getting ever
closer, intent on showering me with attention. I vaguely remember attempting to
pull my head down between my shoulders like a turtle to prevent direct contact
while at the same time levitating myself to the porch railing, just barely
escaping the dog and his cesspool of a mouth.
Realizing he had missed his chance
he looked a little contrite and hurt that I should deny him what he felt was
his righteous duty. Between a fit of hyper-gagging and impaired vision brought
on by the fumes emanating wafting about the porch I managed to warn him off and
escaped into the house.
I suddenly remembered that the
previous day I had allowed this same dog, the very one who had just spent
almost an hour in the most revolting display I had ever witnessed, kiss me
square on the mouth.
You might want to reconsider if
PoochyPoo and his dog bad breath want to share with you where his tongue has
been just before he came over to give you a smack on the lips.
