Homebodies - The awe of awful offal!
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- Published on Saturday, September 10, 2016
By Rita Friesen
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There are times when my granddaughter and her two dogs join Henry Hoover, Miss Daisy and me for a walk. Whereas my two are smallish, under twelve pounds, Meeka and Kaara are much bigger. One is a Lab/Retriever cross and the other a Lab/Shepherd cross. Beautiful golden dogs with bounding and boundless energy! We look quite the sight; my two dogs behaving perfectly (Meeka can bowl them over with a breath) and the two large creatures leading our pack. To give them and us some freedom on a walk, we have, on occasion, headed north to the ball diamonds, loading all of us into a vehicle to get there. The first time worked wonderfully well.
The large dogs ranged far and wide, coming at every call. They did find something of interest at the edge of the clearing, but returned when summoned. The second time was not good.
We were heading back to the truck when Meeka found the spot that had interested her the day before. My guess was that by now, the offal was ripe. Offal: noun; the entrails and internal organs of an animal used as food; refuse or waste material; decomposing animal flesh. I believe this time the third definition would be the correct one! She rolled in the stuff, clogged up her collar with the stuff, writhed and wriggled in the stuff. And then responded to our calls. We smelled her coming. It was awful. Awful: adjective; very bad or unpleasant - “the place smelled awful!” Synonyms: disgusting, horrible, terrible, dreadful, ghastly, nasty, vile, foul, revolting, repulsive,repugnant, odious, sickening, nauseating.
This time it was all of the above! We literally gagged at the smell. There was no way she was going to be allowed in the cab of the truck! Puzzled by our sudden aversion to her nearness, she obediently hopped in the back for her first ever open air truck ride.
We drove slowly back to my home. Thanks be there is a tap, and a hose, in the back yard. And Meeka loves water. I rushed for the pet shampoo and my granddaughter began the cleansing process. Two shampoos later, we towelled her off and they went home.
Cleaning up the mess outside I realized that my hands stunk. The towels needed to be laundered immediately. The stink lingered in the back yard. And all the time, while stifling gags, real wrenching gags, I was also stifling the giggles. For both of us, my granddaughter and I, have the impulse to collapse in a fit of giggles at truly offensive odours. And this had been truly offensive. Much later that night I received a text – Meeka was not allowed up on the bed, even after another bath. The memory of the scene had prompted another outburst of laughter – prompting her partner to wonder whatever was so funny. I sat at my computer, laughing at the memory of the awful offal.
