Mouse Has Read Sod's Law—and Fully Intends to Enforce It

There is a particular kind of smugness that settles over you when a morning is going exactly to plan. Dogs fed. Pre-groomer walk completed with full success on both fronts. Four minutes early.

It should have been a warning.

The Preparation Was Flawless

Mouse had a grooming appointment at 9.30am. Getting her fed had been achieved — which is increasingly a whole separate saga — and we had even managed a successful pre-groomer walk.

One quick circuit. Both necessary bodily functions completed. Mouse would arrive clean, comfortable and ready to be transformed into the pale apricot cloud she is supposed to be.

Everything was going suspiciously well.

9.17am. Mouse Finds Fox Poo.

There was no warning sniff. No hesitation. At exactly 9.17am, Mouse found what I can only describe as the freshest fox poo I have ever encountered and threw herself into it.

Seventy percent of her left side. Ear to thigh. She had not merely rolled in it. She had applied it. The smell was back-of-the-throat strong, and there were thirteen minutes between me owning a clean, groomer-ready dog and whatever Mouse had now become.

Mouse was thrilled.

The Emergency Bath

There was absolutely no possibility of taking her to the groomer like that. I put her straight into the bath, using one hand to stop her escaping while rummaging around in the corner cupboard with the other for anything resembling dog shampoo. There were actual chunks.

Mouse is roughly the size of a cat, which was the only thing working in my favour. I managed to wash her twice. The first wash made very little difference, but the second reduced the smell to something another human being might reasonably be expected to tolerate. Somehow, I did not get fox poo on my clothes. I am claiming that as the morning's only success. I wrapped Mouse in a towel, held her for as long as she would allow and then released her.

Post-Bath Mouse Was Having a Wonderful Time

Mouse shot off around the house absolutely delighted with herself. She was damp, warm and full of the sort of energy only available to a dog who has just rolled in fox poo, fought her way through an emergency bath and come out believing she has won.

Pepsi and Boodle had done nothing wrong. They had not rolled in anything. They had been extremely good girls.

Mouse immediately began annoying them both.

Then She Got a Car Ride

The car is Mouse's favourite thing in the world. She travels in her own seat wearing a safety harness, with her tiny head near the open window and her ears blowing about. As far as Mouse was concerned, the morning was getting better and better. We arrived at the groomer's at 9.34am. Four minutes late and both drenched. Mouse was shaking slightly because she was still damp and had not properly warmed up after her unexpected bath. I was standing there trying to style it out.

Until We Reached the Door

Mouse loves her groomer. It is the actual grooming she objects to. The moment we reached the door, all the confidence disappeared. The dog who had enthusiastically coated most of her body in fox poo, escaped from a towel, terrorised two innocent dogs and enjoyed a car ride suddenly decided she was very small and deeply vulnerable.

I handed her over anyway.

Three and a Half Hours Later

Three and a half hours later, Mouse came home looking as though none of it had ever happened. Pale apricot coat. Neat curls. Clean floppy ears. Huge dark eyes. Complete innocence. There was no trace of the fox poo, the chunks, the emergency double shampoo, the failed bath containment or our damp arrival at 9.34am.

Mouse is the worst dog I have ever known for rolling in anything poo or death related. That is not a complaint. It is simply a fact about a very small dog who has never once looked sorry about any of it.

But by the end of the morning, Mouse looked and SMELLED amazing!! No harm done.