Thank you, Milton!

I have come to the conclusion that there are no gloves on this earth thick enough to handle the stinky, furry mass of dead critter that was deposited on my patio yesterday.

How did it wind up on my patio? It was a gift. From the dog.

I KNEW he was up to something yesterday when he missed his lunchtime kitchen patrol and didn't come in for his afternoon nap. Judging by the look of him with his dirty nose and paws, I'm betting the snow retreated from his super secret cache and he was hard at work digging up treasure.

Milton really likes to bury his valuables. He buries his toys under blankets and pillows, buries critters bits beside the house and has even been known to hide slimy half-chewed bones under piles of Hunter's dirty laundry.    

We're guessing this particular piece of gross is part of the hide from that leg his scored late last year. The only clue is the long wiry moose-like hairs coming off it. We also think Milton gave it a good roll - he's covered in long wiry hairs and sports the telltale slick of a dog coated in nasty.

So instead of tackle my to-do list today, I'm tackling the stink. It's off to Safeway for the thickest rubber gloves they sell and then over to Homer Hounds for the smelliest dog shampoo there is. Who cares if Milton smells like fake fruit or industrial chemical? Just as long as he doesn't smell like decomposed moose. Of course, I'm going to have to dig the outside faucet out of a 6 foot snow berm. Oh, this gift just keeps on giving! 

Right now, he's sitting on the back porch whining to come in. I turned up the radio so I can't hear him. It's not working very well but no matter how much he carries on, that dog is NOT coming in the house.