Earlier this week I wrote my interest in theology and how it got a jump start due to my interest in a certain girl who played the piano at a United Pentecostal Church. Continuing along that line, and because I’m mad as hell at my dog, I thought I’d take a break and write about what I’ve learned about theology from that mutt as he stews while being leashed to his dog run.
I took the morning off and was doing some work in the garage and out in the back year. This included putting up my hammocks for the summer season. Right now, since the leaves haven’t completely unfurled, I could get a tan while sleeping on the hammocks, but that’ll change in a week or so when the leaves are out and the hammocks are shady. I digress. I’ll talk about hammocks later, now I want to talk about this dog whose neck I want to wring.
Trisket is pretty good about staying with you. When someone is out working or playing in the yard, the dog is free to roam. With his herding instincts, he never gets very far away. This is okay, except that the yard backs up to some woods and the corner of a pasture and somewhere out there the dog has found something dead and stinky to roll in. And this isn’t the first time. He did it last week. He’s done it his whole life. Once in Utah, when he was probably only six months old, we were hiking in a canyon in the winter and found something dead to roll in and the dog and came back to me wagging his tail and stinking to high heaven. I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the nearly frozen creek, getting us both wet, as I tried to get him as clean as possible before the trip home (I didn’t have the truck then, and I wasn’t going to let him inside the car smelling like a dead rat). Trisket rolls himself in dead stinky stuff at least twice a summer. Its not even summer and he’s already reached his quota for this year. For some reason, far beyond my ability to understand, the dog gets great pleasure out of this disgusting habit. And he knows it drives me crazy. A few minutes ago, he came running out of the strip of woods with a smile on his face, only to stop as soon as I looked up. His tail had been wagging, but it quickly dropped between his legs. He knew he’d been caught doing something that brought him great happiness (in some perverse sense) while angering me. Now he’ll have to get a bath, which he loves.
There is an old Appalachian folksong titled “Don’t You Hear Jerusalem Moan.” One of the verses goes:
That’s my dog. He loves sinning and bathing and I suppose there are a lot of us like that. We know we shouldn’t do it, but it’s just so much fun, and afterwards we feel guilty until we realize that God still loves and forgives us. I’m also sure there are been times God has wanted to wring my neck just like I want to wring my dog’s neck.
Okay, enough ranting. God has been graceful and I should do the same. I’ve now cooled off enough that I can go out and perform a canine baptism without being tempted to drown the mutt.
I took the morning off and was doing some work in the garage and out in the back year. This included putting up my hammocks for the summer season. Right now, since the leaves haven’t completely unfurled, I could get a tan while sleeping on the hammocks, but that’ll change in a week or so when the leaves are out and the hammocks are shady. I digress. I’ll talk about hammocks later, now I want to talk about this dog whose neck I want to wring.
Trisket is pretty good about staying with you. When someone is out working or playing in the yard, the dog is free to roam. With his herding instincts, he never gets very far away. This is okay, except that the yard backs up to some woods and the corner of a pasture and somewhere out there the dog has found something dead and stinky to roll in. And this isn’t the first time. He did it last week. He’s done it his whole life. Once in Utah, when he was probably only six months old, we were hiking in a canyon in the winter and found something dead to roll in and the dog and came back to me wagging his tail and stinking to high heaven. I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the nearly frozen creek, getting us both wet, as I tried to get him as clean as possible before the trip home (I didn’t have the truck then, and I wasn’t going to let him inside the car smelling like a dead rat). Trisket rolls himself in dead stinky stuff at least twice a summer. Its not even summer and he’s already reached his quota for this year. For some reason, far beyond my ability to understand, the dog gets great pleasure out of this disgusting habit. And he knows it drives me crazy. A few minutes ago, he came running out of the strip of woods with a smile on his face, only to stop as soon as I looked up. His tail had been wagging, but it quickly dropped between his legs. He knew he’d been caught doing something that brought him great happiness (in some perverse sense) while angering me. Now he’ll have to get a bath, which he loves.
There is an old Appalachian folksong titled “Don’t You Hear Jerusalem Moan.” One of the verses goes:
Well a Cambellite preacher his soul is saved
Well he has to be baptized every other day
That’s my dog. He loves sinning and bathing and I suppose there are a lot of us like that. We know we shouldn’t do it, but it’s just so much fun, and afterwards we feel guilty until we realize that God still loves and forgives us. I’m also sure there are been times God has wanted to wring my neck just like I want to wring my dog’s neck.
Okay, enough ranting. God has been graceful and I should do the same. I’ve now cooled off enough that I can go out and perform a canine baptism without being tempted to drown the mutt.
Oh the joys of owning a dog. Ted used to do the same thing plus he would get sprayed by a skunk a couple times a year. Now that he is gone, I kind of miss the trouble he used to get into.
ReplyDeleteSounds like the dog's doing this just to get extra attention from you -- you know, like a child, who thinks that negative attention is better than none.
ReplyDeleteHang in there. Here from Michele's to spread wishes of a clean doggie!
I learned in Yellowstone that wolves roll in dead things too . . . something wired into the K-9 brain. My little dog lots to roll on worms she finds on the sidewalk in the early morning dew . . .I've learned that worms aren't too smelly, though
ReplyDeleteI had a dachshund/beagle mix that used to love that. Threw him in the lake once and had to go in after him...he wasn't a very strong swimmer. I thought it came naturally to them, who knew? What is it about stink that attracts some dogs?
ReplyDeleteGreat lesson to learn though :)
thanks for your responses lately, it has been a difficult sitch.
Sage, every dog we ever had did that. I don't know if it is possible to get them not to do it.
ReplyDeleteGreat post! I love the sinning and bathing bit :)
ReplyDeleteEd, I'm lucky about the skunk. He's never been sprayed but the other night when I drove into the driveway, I saw a shunk out back--I'd smelled them before but this was the first one I'd seen here.
ReplyDeleteSusan, there's no doubt, Trisket loves attention
Diane, at least wolves don't want to come and rub my legs
Kontan, this dog doesn't like swimming either, but he doesn't mind a bath (he prefers them in winter when they're in the tub with warm water as opposed to outside with the hose)
Kenju, I suppose it'd been so long since I had a dog that I'd forgotten this little jewel of their behavior.
Hanulf, thanks, good to see you again
There is a lot one can learn from owning a dog.
ReplyDeleteMichele sent me this way.
Ain't life funny?? There's a reason we're "a little lower than the angels", WE STINK!!
ReplyDeleteDo you think we would wear perfume if we had to roll around in it? :D
ReplyDeleteOur dear departed dog used to roll in things disgusting frequently and then would try to clean himself by rolling in an oily puddle which made it even worse. This would happen on his frequent 'walkabout's and I would open the front door to see Jock sitting with a hangdog expression.I miss him so. BTW forgive me lecturing you but it is a far better thing that you lie in the hammock protected by the leaves than without:)
ReplyDeleteAnd Michele says hi!
Nice analogy - though don't you think that the human sense of smell has been distorted by civilization? Actually, your dog thinks he is rolling in the best smell on earth :) Michele sent me
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure that human smell has been distorted by civilization but many other things have been
ReplyDeleteJealous that you have a yard you can have a dog in that can sin and bath :)
Cute doggy.
ReplyDeleteHope you're having a wonderful weekend, sage!!
OK...Trisket sounds like our Westie Angus. He would role around in just about anything if we'd let him! I understand that he supposedly thinks we are washing his "identity" off when we bath him to get rid of the wondrous smells he loves to wear!
ReplyDeleteSinning and bathing conjures up other images..:D
ReplyDeleteAh, the pleasures of owning a dog. :)
ReplyDeleteI'm with ya! Trisket is adorable though!
ReplyDelete