Dogs and mud

It’s freezing. Cold enough to bring on red cheeks yet not enough to harden the ground. It’s also raining and wet. The air is heavy with humidity and unshed rain. It reminds me of Ireland. Such a beautiful, green country. Unfortunately, this weather also brings mud. Lots of it.

We have two dogs. They’re spoiled and well-taken care of so, of course, they both have issues. One is massive, weighing about 180 lbs. He’s a bullmastiff and he’s got anxiety. Basically, he’s afraid of everything. Everything. If we leave a glove on the deck, his massiveness is not going out just in case the foreign object attacks him. We painted the living room last spring and guess who refused to walk inside?

We were told he needed a buddy and, good doggie parents that we are, we got another dog. Just in case, we got a different breed. An akita. We rescued her and she was definitely full of confidence. Perfect for our insecure bullie.

The issue is that not only is our akita full of confidence, she’s also full of energy. All. The. Time. She’s only still when she’s asleep and that’s after jogging non stop for two days. To help her get rid of that energy, we walk her, we give her activities and we take her where ever we go…except we can’t leave alone Anxious-man-Bullie. He gets the willies on his own.

They’ve become the best of friends. So, we enclosed a large area on our property for them with a big sturdy fence. The area has a digging play pen, a dog house and many toys. I won’t tell you how much doing that cost…but I could have bought a heck of a lot of books with that much money. Anyhow they’ve shown their appreciation by completely destroying the area. By digging and running on the grass incessantly, they’ve turned it into a mud pit ready for some scantly-dressed sorority sisters. The fact that it keeps raining doesn’t help either.

The mud doesn’t seem to bother them. They sit in it, roll in it, play in it. The bullie’s short haired but our akita is one ball of puffy hair. At the end of the day, the amount of dirt on them could fill a landfill.

Undeterred by a little dirt, our doggies try to simply walk into the house at the end of the day. As they are. They don’t understand why my husband and I separate them and attack them with fluffy, clean towels to both dry them and to get rid of most of that mud. It’s baffling to them that we insist on washing their dirty blankets and refuse to allow dirt to accumulate in the house until it includes bugs. We’re just particular that way. But they love us, so they put up with our particular ways.

On the weekends, when work doesn’t demand that I run out the door before the sun is up, I take them with their leashes on a long walk. We stop to look at the cows from our next door farmer and the frogs that live in our stream. It rains on us but I don’t care. It’s cold and freezing and somehow beautiful. Serene and peaceful.

Plus, unlike my muddy pooches, I get a hot shower when I get home.

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