A Discourse on Drool

It's an onomatopoetic word, the long, mournful "oo" sounding like the slow ooze of drool. Among people who freely discuss all bodily fluids and functions of their dogs, it goes unmentioned, perhaps a topic too repugnant to contemplate. Yet its signs are evident where the dog, as of someone gently dripping, dripping on my kitchen floor, leaves spots to dry and adhere to dirt and dust with the gluing properties of egg whites.

After growing up squeamish, I can now leave the dinner table to clean up dog vomit or worse and then calmly return to eating. But drool--I shudder at the very word. Drool is gross, yucky, slimy, icky, and gooey. I cannot photograph it because I don't have an underwater camera.

I deeply appreciated the fact that my Airedales did not drip drool. No slimy puddles in the kitchen or wet patches on the carpet whenever food was in sight. No having to carry a towel on my shoulder as if always ready to burp a baby. True, when Airedales get happy and run circuits with other dogs, they foam at the mouth and the non-Airedale people flee screaming, thinking there's a mad dog on the loose; but that's a trivial matter.

The jaw in question

Miró drools. Is the construction of his jaw at fault? It looks like a normal Airedale jaw with a normal Airedale beard to act as drool-catcher (and mine a normal leg to act as human handkerchief for said dog). Why, then, the flood? At his mealtime, he knows he must sit until given the signal to dive in; but the signal comes quickly lest we drown or I gag, whichever comes first. When I give him a treat, I must wipe off my entire hand. I formed the bad habit of letting Miró lick the bowl after I eat cereal; now he begins drooling with expectation as soon as I begin breakfast. I cannot watch.

 

What to do but steel myself on a daily basis and live with it? When he's gone--and I hope that's a very long time from now--I will miss the drool.

 

 

 

 

Almost wordless Wednesday

Who else is growing these lilies? The breeze wafts the scent all around the house and almost as far as the street. Too bad we can't capture or post scents.

Crow kitchen

People like to dip their chips in sour cream & onion dip, salsa, or hummus. What does a crow do?

I saw him while standing at the sink at the kitchen window and took the photos from there. That's why you see a misty quality. (Dirty window? Of course not!) The bar is part of a railing.

Unfortunately, crows don't use the water only to dip crackers. I found a mess of white bird bones and cartilage. (As well as eating carrion, crows kill and eat other birds.) With much chirping and hopping, I got Miro's interested nose out of there and cleaned up the mess. Sadly for the crows, I replaced the standing water with a dish that I can clean and refill.

Darn it, I was just getting the seasoning right and she dumped it out. Typical human.

 

And for howls of derision, the video that plays normally on my computer plays like an off-kilter silent film here.

 

 

 

Airedale vs. L.L. Bean

This bed has earned its retirement.

They're here!

Local

 

These magically turn into

 

 

 And these magically disappear

Rainier cherries are the best.

 

 

And all she gives me are the peas and green beans.

 

 

The weirdness of just one dog

I keep thinking I'm forgetting something. There's just one food bowl to fill and wash. Fewer poops to pick up. I feel as if I've lost an important skill: I was able to indentify by shape and distribution pattern which dog had done which poops. I daresay not every dog has such an individual "signature."

When washing romaine lettuce, I think, "Alanis will like a piece." Miro will take it--he'll accept anything remotely food-like that you hand him--but he is not as enthusiastic about lettuce or fruit as Alanis was. I have to quell the urge to keep giving him bits of food every time I'm preparing something in the kitchen.

Miro does not sleep on her bed. He follows me around the house more than he used to. He doesn't like to spend a lot of time outside by himself. That's another habit I'm trying not to make, of going outside with him every time, not a fun thing in the middle of winter.

Waiting at the door for dinner, though, doesn't change.

Roberta Sparr's July 4th

Can't decide which activity to choose this July 4? Artist Bobbi Sparr has a suggestion.

A Missoula artist, she draws and paints Airedales engaging in everyday activities--

as she sees them.

Wordless Wednesday