Yellow Submarine---no---a Jack Russell!

No, I am not smashed, high or in any other altered state. I am sure you all know about yellow submarines, but less of you would be familiar with yellow Jack Russells. It does not mean I am about to describe a new breed of Jack Russell but I am going to tell you a tale.

Yesterday was my first day back at school for the last term (Yippee). This entails Perdy being back on her own for the day. I may bring her to work for the occasional treat but she’s actually fine at home now. However when I do arrive back after work she is like a wound up spring, ready to unleash all sorts of horrors on the unprepared. I of course am prepared.

I’m out of my car and inside while she runs around like a demonic hairy ball, jumping at my legs, propelling me towards the toilet---yeah she seems to know the pattern. Then she lurches onto the couch waiting for me to gather the necessaries. That means her ‘rewards’ and anything else I may need, like my so-called weather-proof coat (that’s another story).

Perdy stands on the top of the couch facing the door in readiness for me to pick her up and move on out to the car. Her tail assails me relentlessly and her whimperings begin. All the way down to the Bay she alters between running from side to side of the back seat (she is restrained, otherwise she is quite capable of placing herself on the windowsill of the front of the car) and watching traffic and dogs on the footpath.

By the time we arrive in the car park, she is at fever pitch. Out she jumps, once I release her and she shoots across the sand, casting her backward glances to see if I have unleashed the orange ball. It bounces; sometimes just in front of her and her little body contorts in mid-air as she tries to gather it in. She is often successful at catching it before it commences a bounce that mirrors her pent-up energy.

After about three throws, she heads off into the grassy part of the park. She likes her privacy when she needs the toilet. Luckily for me, that means she goes way off the beaten track. Unfortunately, that means dropping the ball somewhere along the way as nature’s calls and demands total attention. Yeah—sometimes she forgets where she dropped the ball and at about $12 a piece, I don’t like her losing them.

Today’s excursion took on an unfortunate twist. She couldn’t find the ball even though I exhorted her to try harder. I’ll give her credit---she doesn’t easily give in. She circles, runs in grid patterns and noses the ground. She didn’t find her ball, but she did manage to find something exciting---for her.

When she appeared back at my side, having given in, she was a changed Jack Russell. I have never seen one like her in the literature. My God---evolution is a wonderful thing, when achieved at breakneck pace. The white was heavily disguised and the black dots all but gone. Perdy was a ‘changeling’----she was yellow. Then it hit me---- the stink! ----Imagine falling into a vat filled with rotten fish and other decaying matter. Multiply the effect and add on a memory of a truly revolting smell--- the kind that you would rather forget.

I could smell Perdy from five plus metres away. Action time! The tide was going out rapidly and I needed to get the miscreant yellow creature into the tide fast. I threw the spare ball into the water and she retrieved it. She was still yellow. I threw the ball out further, risking the possibility of the ball going out under the motorway, hopefully not with Perdy.

She was still yellow and the stink was undiminished. What to do? I resigned myself into continuing the walk and hoping that she would roll in the clean grass and take the evil smell and yellowing filth away. We met two of our friends who had arrived earlier. They took one look at Perdy and told me that one of their dogs had found the same pile of---whatever it was. Our theory was that a dog had found some rotting stuff, probably of a fishy nature and then thrown up. Perdy and the other dogs had found that and rolled themselves silly in it.

I made Perdy jump into the receding tide several times and encouraged her to stay well away from me. It all made little difference. There was only one solution. Bath night Perdy! The other walker shad gone and I made my way towards the car park. Perdy did her usual sniffing down holes, hoping to discover a rat. Hell, any rat would have been very safe. The stink would have warned of Perdy’s presence from many meters away.

I opened the door and for once, Perdy just jumped in. As far as she was concerned, she had Channel No5 on.  I decided that I needed a good pet shampoo. Off to the Pet Shop. I came out with a shampoo and a herbal soap. The drive home was like a journey that couldn’t end quickly enough for me. No stopping at the shop for an ice block! As soon as I arrived home, I put her lead on and took her to the bathroom. Perdy quite likes baths so that was no big deal. I washed her thoroughly----once with the shampoo and then again with the soap.

She stood calmly while I blow-dried her. Then it was that crazy thing dogs do when they have had a bath. She ran like a Jack Russell---around and around. I’m sure she felt good. But--- there was still a lingering stink. My partner came home and insisted on repeating the whole process. Perdy had another bath. It was then that we realized that she had inadvertently passed the stink to me. It had somehow transferred as I was bathing her. Off came my clothes and into the washing they went.

Yuck----and guess what. The trip to work the next morning was so bad; the smell was still in my car. I think we shall be going to the Car wash to get an insider-job done this weekend.

Yellow dogs are not my cup of tea!