George, our better-than-standard poodle, had his usual monthly appointment with the dog groomer late last week. As we were leaving, the owner spritzed him with cologne. George didn’t react, and I didn’t think anything of it until we walked into the off-leash dog park later that same afternoon.
A large dog of dubious heritage met us at the gate, sniffed George up and down, and said, “Ewwww, man. Do you stink. Can’t imagine where you’ve been, but you better find yourself something good and dead and roll in it right away. You’re disgusting.”