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Tuesday 16 December 2014

Dough Boy

I like dogs although not all the breeds necessarily appeal to me - it really boils down to the dog's appearance.  Our first was a mutt from the SPCA whom we named Schulz followed by two purebred German shepherds, a male and female, both elegant and well behaved.  Finally, there was a purebred miniature poodle who was a joy to have around the house especially because he was not yappy. The family had him the longest and eventually he had to be put down due to extremely painful spinal arthritis.  In disposition, he was all 'dog'.  Once we tried to dress him in a bright red doggy coat so that he would be warm out walking during the winter months but he would have none of it.  If a dog could blush, I'd say he did when we put that silly coat on him.  The poor little guy looked so miserable that, in sympathy, we removed the coat - he was overjoyed.  He never wore it again.

The main thrust of my story has to do with the male German shepherd that we named Koko.  He was about three months old when we got him.  We were living in Johannesburg, South Africa at the time and it was winter.  It gets cold on the Rand during the winter and it was not uncommon to see water freeze solid if left in a bucket outside.  It was too cold to leave a young puppy outdoors and so we fixed up a spot in an enclosed porch leading off the kitchen where he could be warm and snug. Two doors shut off the kitchen from the rest of the house so we felt that the puppy would not get in trouble having him there.

One Sunday evening, we went to church leaving Koko in the porch.  At church, we met some folks and, to be sociable, we invited them back to the house for tea.  Upon entering the kitchen, we stood stunned at the scene before our eyes but that could not keep us from laughing.  The entire kitchen floor was covered in a white powder-like substance.  In the midst of it all sat Koko looking like a furry snowball.  He had discovered how to open one of the kitchen cupboard doors.  Then he pulled out an open bag of flour and proceeded to shake the bag's contents around the room.  His whiskers and eyelashes were coated with flour which had turned into a glue-like paste when he attempted to lick it off.  I promptly nicknamed him 'Dough Boy'.  He sat there on the floor looking up at us and wagging his tail as if to say, "I was bored and found something to occupy me."  The tea was understandably postponed and it was bath-time for one gooey puppy and clean-up time for the kitchen.