Sharon turned up today in her 'Dial a Groom' van and I knew the shaggy locks were a gonner. Ho hum, Spring is here.
All winter I wore my coat long, developing a hirsute aspect not unlike that of a Highland cow. As any of you who have achieved proximity to one of these bovines will know, sprinkle said animal with a bit of mist, or perhaps something stronger, like driving rain, and the oils in the coat start letting off the most delicious pong. In my case the pong of natural oils is often augmented by that of fox urine which I like to dab behind my ears if I come across the opportunity for a good roll.
The problem with this special winter aroma is that it makes it almost impossible for me to cope with the Female.
‘Oh my God, you’re disgusting,’ she’ll say as she gets back into the car after I’ve been waiting patiently for her to finish the weekly shop at Tesco.
‘No way are you jumping up next to me on this sofa,’ she’ll gasp as I try to edge up shiftily in the hope of not alerting her olfactory organs.
‘I simply won't sleep with that on the bed,’ she’ll pronounce as I come into the family bedroom after my evening bark-off in the garden.
Little does she realise how privileged she is to have me sleep with her now that she’s acquired a heated duvet. I either have to move over to the side as the Male, who gets as hot as I do then sticks his feet out, kicking me in the process, or I have to melt off the bed like a Salvador Dali clock.
If, on top of that, the person you are lying next to starts groaning and feigning nausea, it makes one wonder why they don’t get up and move to the spare room. Pongy and proud, that was me, now I'm smooth shaven and as golden as a chicken nugget.
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