Lots O’Dog came here to live at my house from the ASPCA before Sophie and I were whelped. She doesn’t like to talk about it, so I don’t ask much. What I heard was that she was brought in by the dog police. Nobody claimed her. My imagination is limited, so I can’t understand why anyone would let Lots O’Dog go like that. That is a real canine conundrum, letting a perfectly great dog just run off and not look for ‘em.
Lots had babies, they figure when she was real young. Like I said I don’t ask her about all that. She’s a real mothery-type She’s taught us some pretty cool stuff like barking at night, at all hours. And howling at the moon, nobody does it better than Lots though I have to say I can give her a run for it.
She loves stink. I mean she loves it, the stinkier, the better. Mary says Lots O’Dog is a better harbinger of spring than any old groundhog. When old Lots starts bringing skunks home, you can bet Spring is right around the corner. She munches on the skunk before she get around to burying it—really just covering it with a little bit of dirt. Afterwards, she sits on the pile like a brooding hen until it gets good n’ ripe and to protect it from poachings, like Sophie or I would even consider such a thing. YUCK! Lots swears there is no better eating. I’m inclined not to believe her. Some dogs are more delicate than other’s when it comes to smell. I like to think of myself as refined in the olfactory department.
I wouldn’t risk losing a night in front a fire for any smell. You see she isn’t allowed in the house after she’s been skunked. I don’t blame Mary either. Heck, I can’t even stand it when Lots comes in the garage after she’s been stinked. Talk about bark all night, I bark myself blue—maybe it’s the skunk fumes until she goes out to sleep on her old dead skunk. Since she is a St Bernard with a long coat whatever smell she has applied lingers.
It’s cold, Lots stinks and I smell a fire’s been lit gotta go.
Hagar in for the night.