My Great Pyrenees are livestock guardians, which means a few things. First, they live full-time with the goats and chickens. Second, they have free run of the fenced pastures and woods where the goats graze. And third, they are never clean.
So when Remi got skunked last week, she did what any self-respecting working dog would do—rolled in the grass and dirt like her life depended on it, trying desperately to erase the stench. I followed up with a generous application of skunk deodorizer, which helped tone down the eau de roadkill. But her thick undercoat was still full of grime, leaves, twigs, and possibly a few forgotten snacks.
At that point, I did something I rarely do: I called in reinforcements. Namely, a professional groomer with better tools and more patience than me.
Sixty dollars later... and I swear, you need sunglasses to look at her. Remi positively gleams. You forget under all that muck and hard-working dog-ness there’s actually a stunning animal underneath. She looks like she was dry-cleaned by angels. A clean Great Pyrenees is something to behold—majestic, regal, and just waiting to ruin it.
Of course, she’s not happy about it. She smells like shampoo now. Artificial cleanliness is not the LGD way.
So I’m just waiting to see what she chooses to roll in next to restore her natural, earthy aroma. Fresh manure? Rotten log? Whatever it is, she’s probably eyeing it up right now with a plan. And it probably smells better than skunk. Then again, most anything smells better than skunk.
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| "Mom says I smell good but I've got to find a manure pile to roll in so I can get rid of the shampoo smell." |
1 comment:
she looks so much happier ............
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