My Dad Has a Problem
13/11/10 21:29 Filed in: Pawsonal
You know, I'm starting to wonder whether my dad can
actually smell at all!
Strange but true. We're out for a walk and we come to a corner and I can smell all kinds of wonderful things on the wind. Meowing four-leggers, smelly striped four leggers of the darkness, meat, lovely smelling brown logs, rotting bodies, you name it, it's all there on the breeze.
So I stop. And I sit. And I look back at my dad and I think, "can't you smell all that? Don't you want to run as fast as you can in that direction to find it all, get a close up whiff?"
But he just stands there, looking down at me. And then he actually tells me he thinks we should walk in the other direction! Amazing. I don't get it. I sit there, stunned at just how stupid that particular idea is, waiting for him to come around.
He doesn't. He gets to the end of the rope that ties us together, stops and looks back at me, still sitting there, my nose in the air, savouring all the wonderful odours.
And he says, "no, this way."
Honestly.
It's like he has no sense of smell at all.
So I wait patiently until he works it out. It often takes a while, though. And I'm not sure that, when he finally gives in and goes the way I want to go, he's agreeing because he's caught a whiff of what I'm smelling. In fact, I think he's doing it just because I'm forcing him to.
Wow. I can't imagine a life with such a handicap. My poor dad. He'll never know the wonder that is a nice, smelly carcass!
Strange but true. We're out for a walk and we come to a corner and I can smell all kinds of wonderful things on the wind. Meowing four-leggers, smelly striped four leggers of the darkness, meat, lovely smelling brown logs, rotting bodies, you name it, it's all there on the breeze.
So I stop. And I sit. And I look back at my dad and I think, "can't you smell all that? Don't you want to run as fast as you can in that direction to find it all, get a close up whiff?"
But he just stands there, looking down at me. And then he actually tells me he thinks we should walk in the other direction! Amazing. I don't get it. I sit there, stunned at just how stupid that particular idea is, waiting for him to come around.
He doesn't. He gets to the end of the rope that ties us together, stops and looks back at me, still sitting there, my nose in the air, savouring all the wonderful odours.
And he says, "no, this way."
Honestly.
It's like he has no sense of smell at all.
So I wait patiently until he works it out. It often takes a while, though. And I'm not sure that, when he finally gives in and goes the way I want to go, he's agreeing because he's caught a whiff of what I'm smelling. In fact, I think he's doing it just because I'm forcing him to.
Wow. I can't imagine a life with such a handicap. My poor dad. He'll never know the wonder that is a nice, smelly carcass!