My dog has no class

Yesterday I let Gabe out and forgot about him.  When I finally went looking for him, he came running to me pretty quickly, which relieved my troubled mind.  However, when he joined me on the couch, I realized he'd been rolling in something dead... probably the rotting remains of my dead chicken in our yard, which I did find a day or so after the dog or dogs killed him in my yard.  There wasn't much left except feathers and yellow legs.  I realized at the time Gabe would end up rolling in it once it was "ripe", but I thought I'd just keep an eye on him because there wasn't much to pick up.  Like most good intentions, that's the closest I got to actually keeping him away from the corpse.  So he got a bath yesterday because he stunk to high heaven.  

I hate having to bathe a dog: I end up as wet as the dog, and so does the kitchen floor.  "Why don't you just bathe him in the bathtub?" Cliff asked.  "Because I can't get down on my knees without extreme pain," I answered.  I didn't bother to mention that I get soaked worse bathing Gabe in the tub than when he's in the plastic tote I use as his bathtub.  

Today I got home from church and warmed up dinner, since we had plenty of scalloped potatoes left from yesterday, as well as green beans.  I fried four sausage patties to round out our simple meal (there was still apple pie left, too).  As we settled onto the couch after dinner, Gabe came to lay down beside me on the couch, and that's when it hit me:  Gabe had rolled in carrion again.

So here we are, Gabe and I.  He's wet right now, but he smells decent yet again.  Two baths in two days' time.  I'm sure he doesn't even connect the bath with his stink, which he seems to think is the most wonderful cologne in existence.  But don't you love the way dogs act when they finally get out of the bath?

Leave it to me to fall in love with the Kansas City Chiefs at a time when Covid is going around.  One of their players, Cam Newton, has the virus.  They have postponed the game to Monday or Tuesday, but I imagine if anyone else tests positive they'll stop playing.  It's like this monster virus just reaches in and causes bad luck wherever it lands.  The preacher and his family went on a much-deserved vacation last week and had to come home two days early because a friend who was checking their house found their basement full of water.  I felt so sorry for them.  More things are going wrong, in every direction I turn.  Not to me, other than my dead chicken, but all around me.  I keep finding out somebody else I know has cancer.  It's an ill wind that blows no one any good, the old saying goes, meaning a loss or misfortune usually benefits someone, but I don't know anyone who is benefitting from the pandemic; I'm sure someone is.  Maybe some of us will use it as a learning experience.  

My garden is done except for the weeds, the turnips, and green tomatoes, some of which we had yesterday for dinner.  The fried green tomatoes really hit the spot, and I do believe I'll make some again in the next couple days.

I will certainly be glad when the election is over so the political ads will be done.  I have unfollowed so many political posters and anti-mask whiners on Facebook, it's rather boring now, but it's peaceful!  I may leave the settings like that permanently.  I can always go to a person's status and see what they're saying and doing, but when it's every other post on my status, it drives me nuts.  (I know, I didn't have far to go.)

Since not much is going on, I guess that's all I've got.  Be as safe as you reasonably can be.

Yours truly,

Donna