“Why would you even have a husband?”
Other than the fact that as soon as we came down the mountain from our hike this afternoon we had to walk straight to the grocery store to buy anti-bacterial dish soap, rubber gloves, and paper towels, then ask the hotel if we could use their hose and maybe borrow a wad of rags, then deal with a leaping, bolting, generally uncooperative 85-pound Lab who did not feel like having a bath in freezing cold water, nor being vigorously rubbed and constantly sniffed until Inspector #12 (that would be me) was ready to certify him hotel-eligible–other than that, it’s been a great, relaxing trip so far, even though most of the time we’ve been in the car.
And all I want to say about The Incident–other than the fact that I only wish the thing Bear had rolled in was a cow turd–is that at the end of it, when my husband and I were dripping and exhausted and still mighty grossed out, I told him thank you for handling all the most disgusting parts of that ordeal, and he answered the way he usually does in cases such as these: “Why would you even have a husband if he wouldn’t do things like that?”
And by the way, he rejected the protective gloves.
[Just so you know, we'll be hiking and traveling again tomorrow, so I'll be a little spotty on the comment moderation. This is why one day I will succumb to a Crackberry . . .]
Technorati Tags: Dogs, Things Dogs Roll In, Reason #2 For Having A Husband
July 29th, 2007 at 9:34 pm
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
OMG, you? A Crackberry?
Good Lord, let me catch my breath first…
Yeah, RIGHT, Amish Girl!
July 29th, 2007 at 9:49 pm
Could happen. I learned to use a typewriter, didn’t I?
July 29th, 2007 at 10:46 pm
This reminds me of all the people I’ve met in recent years who have never been out west and want to know aaaaaall about it. Sometimes the topic will roll around to hiking/survival, and people are always shocked to hear that a comb is high on the list of things to bring if you’re venturing into the desert.
A comb?, they ask. To which I respond, Have you ever tried to pick cactus out of a dog’s paw with your bare hands??
As for Bear… was it a skunk?
July 30th, 2007 at 4:12 am
Do husbands even KNOW how handling stuff like this makes us swoon??? I know we’re supposed to melt over getting diamonds and all, but when my husband buried our dead guinea pigs, it was aphrodisiac-al, I can tell you…
July 30th, 2007 at 7:16 am
That story reminds me of the running gag in my family that whenever one of us kids goes shopping with my mom,we wind up carrying all the bags(most of them,I really should say)because,according to her “that’s what I had kids for!”:)
That rule of thumb also applies to taking out the garbage,washing the dishes,etc. It’s very handy,I recommend it to all parents-keep them young’ins in their place!:D
July 30th, 2007 at 8:13 am
I read somewhere once that porn for heterosexual women was having a man wash the dishes while saying, “You’re right, you’re right, you’re right.” That only touches upon the reality: I also go swoony when he cleans the bathroom.
July 30th, 2007 at 8:27 am
Alkelda, ha! I love that!
Sara, your man does win something for burying the dead guinea pigs. Swoon . . .
Lady T, it’s nice of your mother to admit the kid/slave connection out loud! Didn’t all of us kids always know that in our hearts?
Lizzie, there was a point yesterday where the two of us actually said we’d prefer skunk–and that’s after having had experience with three skunk blasts in the past, and knowing how the smell sears the eyeballs right out of your face. Trust me, you really don’t want to know what he rolled in. People are eating.
July 30th, 2007 at 8:44 am
It’s got to be some kind of greasy gopher guts.
July 30th, 2007 at 9:39 am
I feel like I’m hosting some other kind of contest here. No, Deborah, not gopher guts.
July 30th, 2007 at 2:25 pm
Gosh, you’re all making it sound so wonderful! I think I want a husband.
Do they come in muave?
July 30th, 2007 at 2:44 pm
I always thought having a husband was for killing the bugs in the house.
Btw, I’m back on the Internet and ready to Rock ‘n Roll!
July 30th, 2007 at 6:05 pm
I know the husband was the point of your post, but it’s the dog that’s cracking me up. I can just picture that shoulder drop they do into whatever ripe-scented yuck they find…I’ve cleaned my share of stinky dogs!
July 30th, 2007 at 6:35 pm
Yes, Mary Lee, it’s the shoulder drop! That’s it exactly. And once it starts, you can’t stop it mid-air. You just have to suffer.
Patrick, your wife wrote to me privately and asked the same thing. Whoops–maybe I wasn’t supposed to tell.
Mother Reader, nice to see you back! I support your policy of going underground until you’d read Harry Potter, though. I did the same thing–you can’t be too careful.
July 30th, 2007 at 10:03 pm
Actually husbands are for helping to get rid of the smell on the poor dog and the varmit who tried to stinkify the poor dog a second time.
I can still see him pop up from behind his truck in his shorts & boots to save the day. Ya gotta a love a man who rescues the family pet.
By the way I knew my daughter’s boy friend was a keeper when he helped my husband bury our 120 lb dog when the dog died unexpectedly. Our daughter was sobbing-what could he do but be a hero?
July 30th, 2007 at 10:17 pm
How nice of your husband! I’m not sure my spouse wouldn’t have pulled the “he’s YOUR dog” angle.
July 31st, 2007 at 4:29 am
You think she has been out shopping for new rugs and curtains, too?
July 31st, 2007 at 7:18 am
The first time I brought my to-be-husband to my mom’s house, after we’d just started dating, a bird flew down the chimney into the living room. While I squealed uselessly in a corner (it was hurting itself flying against the walls, it was making me sick to watch it) B. helped my mom to turn off all the lights and open the door, then guided it out with a broom.
Keeper.
July 31st, 2007 at 2:54 pm
I never knew deer manure was green and slimy and ultrastinky until I got a dog . . .
Was it deer manure?
Or even worse, Bear Manure? That will kill off any appetite, even the worst, for days and days. Should package it up and sell it as a diet supplement, like ho*odia.
August 1st, 2007 at 4:40 pm
Readerdiane, you bet that young man is a keeper! Burying the dog? Major boyfriend material for stepping up.
Katie, I’ve seen the photos of Winston (that’s the dog, people, not the husband), and he’s too cute to ever do what Bear did. But now he does look like he might bring dead lizards into the house . . .
Patrick, never fear. I get so many fan letters from your wife about you, always asking me to post them, I finally had to put her on permanent filter. She just loves you so.
Eisha, good job working out that very complex dating test for your man. I would have been hiding my eyes just like you did–I hate seeing that kind of frenzied fear in some poor animal. You picked a good guy.
BJ, no to deer manure, and I believe you on the bear manure. Ewwww. Like your idea of selling it as a diet supplement. You’re so enterprising.
August 2nd, 2007 at 7:42 pm
Thank you thank you thank you all.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading all of these posts. I laughed out loud and really needed that today.
AND I am so glad that I don’t have a dog.
Robin, I hope that the rest of your vacation is fresh-smelling and rubber glove-free.
August 13th, 2007 at 10:23 am
One day I got out of the shower and saw a little snake on the bathroom floor. My husband was asleep and I either screamed without meaning to or called out to wake him up, “I just got out of the shower and there’s a snake and I need you because I don’t have my glasses on and I can’t tell what kind of snake it is.”
So it develops that it’s a little baby garden snake, and Matt says, “Awww, he’s missing his mom.” (One of the reasons I love the man.) He returns with hot-dog tongs, an oven mitt, and an empty spaghetti-sauce jar, and he tongs this tiny, big-eyed, harmless snake into the jar and releases it out in the shrubbery. We imagine that a cat brought it in.
I am really pretty tough — I caught a dove in the family room with my bare hands while I was on crutches — but I still appreciate a brave, strong, tall partner.
August 13th, 2007 at 10:43 am
Kittymama, your man, of course, sounds superb, but what about you? Catching a dove with your bare hands while on crutches? You’re a toughie!