CHAPTER 4 BATHING
CHEWY: A DOCTOR'S TAIL.
AVAILABLE JUNE FIRST 2018
If one is depressed enough and cerebrally damaged and in chronic pain, unusual things happen.
I talked to my dog -- not weird.
He talked back – weird.
He gave good advice and seemed scholarly – weirder.
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I took his advice when ignoring instructions of many others, including my doctors and counselors. The dog and I had bonded. I trusted him.
Cranial nerve number one, the olfactory, still worked for me. This means I could smell. The nerve runs to the brain from the nose, pushing life-sustaining sensory information to the mind. For example, burning flesh – yes, I'm on fire. Where is the shower? Or perhaps baking bread – foods are available. Let’s eat. Or dog shit – Oh, I need to clean my shoes.
A canine's olfactory abilities are 20 times more powerful than mine. We have thumbs. They've got noses. My dog has a particularly excellent nose. Evolution developed survival advantages in dogs.
Dogs don't need identification cards to know themselves. They don't exchange business cards at the dog park. Odor is their calling card. They embrace all smells without judgment. Humans, in fact, are repelled by feces. Dogs are not. Even to the point of coprophagia. And, even I, a supreme lover of dogs, cannot condone their every activity. But in the matter of personal hygiene, dogs are like the French in that they stand close to each other and get a good whiff. I think the French invented perfume for Americans who seem puritanical by our revulsion at armpits and groin smells.
Chewy every ten days got "doggie" that is, emitted a stench as offensive as a trash truck late in the afternoon on a hot day. I knew what must be done.
"Dog, your service vest and leash are dirty. They need a cleaning," I told him.
"Looks good to me. What's a little dirt? I'm only going to roll in shit later."
"Hey. I'm being diplomatic. Subtle. I mean you stink."
"Another bath? We did that just weeks ago. When it rained. Remember, you brought out the soap. We washed outside."
"Buddy, tell you what. I'll get cleaned up with you. Soap, water, and shampoo for the body.
We can do our clothes as well." I said.
"I'm a nudist."
“No excuses.”
The trailer was not fit for human habitation for multiple reasons. Two of which were there was no running water and no electricity. However, every morning while walking, we passed the self-serve car wash. Poor Mexicans took advantage of this as cheap entertainment on Saturday afternoons. The family would be out there playing with the sprayer and helping their parents scrubbing the car clean.
It was such a great idea that the dog and I lined up behind two cars and waited our turn. Inserting the quarters, I bought 10 minutes of soapy wetness. The spewing hose excited the dog. He thought of monsters, trespassers and some bad force that must be destroyed. His doggy thoughts could be primitive at times like this. Dog, (I had yet to name him) ran around in circles barking and biting the nozzle, while I chased him with the presoak soap and plain water.
He had his service vest and leash on while foaming at the mouth. He made quite the funny scene. Others thought he might be rabid with all the high pitch barking. In any case, every customer seemed to circle us to watch with delight at the circus show.
My brain was too banged up to be self-conscious. My frontal cortex was destroyed. Thus, I had no inhibition and no embarrassment. I watched neutrally as the children laughed enough to be just excited as the dog. After five minutes the dog was done. I spontaneously turned the shower wand on myself and repeated the process. The suds flowed over my clothes. More laughs and astonishment from the Mexican crowd who usually are very conservative and would never laugh at a gringo in such a way.presence. This time, they couldn't help it.
From then on, I would save up my quarters to visit the public baths once a week on Saturday afternoon.
And, that was how a dog taught me about hygiene
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