As soon as I walked in the door from an exhausting day on the road, my son runs up to me and says, hardly able to contain himself, “We’re dog sitting for Mister Nate!”
I won’t lie. That’s not what I heard, at least not on the first go. What I actually heard sounded a bit like Mrs. Donovan, Charlie Brown’s teacher. Remember? “Wha-wha wha…”
Once I saw his mouth stop moving and I heard silence, I emphatically inquired, “WHAT?!” My face must have morphed just enough for him to realize that I didn’t share his commitment.
“It’s OK, dad. They aren’t coming over here. Mr. Nate’s gonna give me the code, uh, give us the code to go into his house and feed and play with his dogs. Oh, and I have to clean up their poop too.”
I was mostly relieved to hear him say that they weren’t coming to OUR house. The remaining details were easily managed.
When the time came, I accompanied Joshua to Mr. Nate’s house at 0600 hours the next morning. We punched the secret code into the garage door keypad and were on our way in. Once we opened the door leading from the garage space into the laundry room and then into the house proper, we rounded the corner and saw the dogs that we had previously only heard.
We gave them treats, fed them, and let them out to make canine compost. It wasn’t until they came back into the house and one tried to lick my face that I recalled the pungence of doggy halitosis. That was the inspiration for this post.
Here are the 7 fast & dirty points on dealing with Fido’s funky breath: