We picked up Bette at the
groomer and she looked so cute, so soft and clean. I held her up to my cheek
and hugged my adorable little girl, the fresh smell of clean dog filling my
nose. Not a hint of the sour pup we had dropped off a couple of hours earlier.
On grooming days, Bette is like a little queen and she plays the part. She is
the star and loves the attention. A soft, sweet, lovable little bundle of dog
fur. That's Bette. Or is it?
"Yap! Yap!" Clean Bette is at the kitchen door. She wants out. So
I reluctantly open the door, knowing that every time she goes out into the dog
run she comes back in dirtier than when she went out. Not two minutes after I
let her out I hear the yapping. Incessant yapping as Bette tries to pick a
fight through the fence with our neighbor's dogs. The fact that there are four
dogs on the other side of the fence, the largest ten times bigger than Bette,
means nothing to her. I have to run out there and break it up. At least six or
more times a day Bette wants out. The lure of the fight draws her to the back
door. Bette is not the sweet thing she makes out to be on grooming day. She
wallows in dirt, stands at the front gate loudly guarding her territory, and
lord help the cat that dares enter her domain. Yes, it's Dirty Bette, the Junk
Yard Dog.
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