The smell of freshly cut grass, the smell of the open sea that you get at the beach, the smell of fresh baked cookies… of forget it! I love the smell of dog. That’s right, forget perfumes, soaps, or potpourri, I love the smell of dog, I even love the smell of wet dog, so there.
I love Thursdays, I love when the transport truck pulls in and we all wait outside until the door is finally cracked open. At first there is the smell of urine soaked newspaper, I don’t like that smell as much and then the smell of dog. Not just dog, but puppy dog. I love when Adam and John go in the back and one by one pull out a dog, not knowing who they’re going to come out with. Thursdays are like opening presents on Christmas morning, the pups all have the same look, wide eyed, all four paws stretched out with a look that says “No, don’t hurt me”. Then I pick them up, they curl right up and nuzzle into my neck. Maybe they pee on me, maybe they don’t, then I take a sniff, there it is, the smell of dog.
Sometimes Adam or John walk to the front of the trailer with a grown dog. That adult dog takes one look at everyone outside the truck, goes scared and drops on their tummy, not moving in protest. “No I will not get off this truck”. I have to talk them down or pick them up, maybe they pee on me, maybe they don’t and there it is again, that smell.
Well after I get home and shower, even days later after I washed my clothes, I find myself in the supermarket or maybe the post office, or just driving in my car, I turn a certain way and I can smell it, just a faint whiff of it, dog. And I can’t wait for Thursday all over again.