Sadie got a bath today; the second one this week. Now, normally she goes for weeks and weeks with no bath; she lives in the house with us, and she isn't a stinky dog by nature. But since spring has made its appearance, it looks like I'd better get used to bathing my dog often.
When we take our walk in the pasture, I turn her loose. Sadie literally lives for these times. She gets to choose where she pees or poops. Oh, the freedom! She can chase birds and squirrels and scare up wild turkeys. She can sniff whenever and wherever she wants, for as long as she wants.
And she can roll.
There is something terrible-smelling in the woods... I don't know what it is, it smells like nothing else in the world... that Sadie has rolled in twice this week. It's pungent, and it's awful: I'd almost say it's worse-smelling than carrion, which she also enjoys rolling in. If I see her at a distance on her back, rolling vigorously, I yell "no", and she stops. But she's out of my sight a lot, back there.
So it looks like, unless Sadie somehow figures out that the stink is the direct cause of the hated bath she gets later, I'm going to have the most-frequently-bathed dog in the county.