words per minute
5
acstuart
00:00
Speed
The summer’s heat ripples sweat down my nose as I stoop yanking tender weeds from their posts. Taking a brief survey of the garden, I smile with pride. The lush beauty of the garden suits me and I breathe the intoxicating aroma of fresh blooms. But instead of the usual fragrance, my senses are insulted with the smell of what surely must be a festering carcass. The odor hangs limp in the air and my nose guides me to the source: my dog, Abby. She’s been dashing around the yard soaking up the heat and now her fat body betrays her. She creates odors of which other dogs can only fantasize. Slobber sliding from her mouth, she slumps at my feet as if to say, "Here I am. Praise me!"
I scowl and march into the house. In 30 seconds I am back clenching dog shampoo and revving up the hose. Chilly bursts of liquid erupt from the serpent and I call for the smelly beast. She won’t come. She knows. She's done this dance before. Tugging the hose behind me, the shampoo clamped under one arm, I slowly, cautiously approach my victim. With the tenderness of a professional wrestler, I snag her collar and allow the water to work its wizardry. Bouncing off her watertight coat, I bravely touch the foul bristles, wincing as I rub fingers into her rippled fatness. We both stand there. Neither wants this, but it cannot be avoided.
As I squirt soap along her back, she grumbles and pulls, but cannot escape cleanliness. Her beloved stench is short-lived; she knew it was ill-fated. That wondrous concoction of sweat and grass and poo throughout her coat makes her feel alive and reminds her of puppyhood. What a delicious aroma! Closing her eyes she inhales the last traces of playtime then sighs as the dog she prefers to be melts away, dripping bubble by bubble onto the earth, mingling with the dirt and the bugs and the worms.