Puppy Jack Is A Little Stinker!

On second thought...I must declare that Puppy Jack is a HUGE stinker!

I went out for my evening walk, and he pranced up the steps to the side porch, and under my Sweet, Sweet Juno's belly, and gleefully jumped up to put both his front paws on my shoulders.

"Aww...Jacky Boy, we're going for our walk, just settle--WHEW! YOU STINK! GET AWAY!"

That was nasty! Even when Jack trotted down the steps and began play-growling at my stalker, Copper, I couldn't escape the stench.

"Juno! Is that YOU? Do you stink, too?" I cautiously leaned over to take a whiff of her broad head. Nope. Not my dainty girl! She didn't stink at all. I figured Jack must have rolled on some carcass that Juno did not have access to, or did not find particularly appealing.

Come to think of it, Jack had declined his cat kibble this afternoon when I returned from town. He was slow in climbing the steps, and was not his prancing self. More subdued. And when I left his treat on the porch boards and went to get the grocery bags...I found the kibble untouched when I returned. Perhaps Jack was off his feed because he had been feasting on a carcass as well. That dog LOVES to eat! He even eats baby carrots from the roast when I put them on his evening snack plate. Juno turns up her snooty nose at them.

Every time I went up the driveway and came down the driveway, I smelled that foul odor. "Yuck. It must be on my shirt! I'm changing when I go in. That's nasty."

Once back in the Mansion, I told Farmer H that there must be something dead around the carport area. "It stinks really bad out there. And Jack has been in it. You can even see a swath of it on his fur, kind of muddy looking, on his right-side back area. And he's a LONG dog, so it's a long swath."

"The carport? Oh, yeah. There's a...I saw it while I was mowing yesterday...along the driveway...there's a dead mole."

You'd think he might have done something with it. I remember the days when Farmer H would have tossed a carcass over the fence into Copper's field, without a second thought. Or chucked it down the sinkhole, to contaminate our well. He did it with a dead possum, anyway.

At the very least, you'd think he might have mentioned it to me before Jack doused me with his new perfume.