German Shepherd Hair

Today I took the crotchety old man to task and made him lie down on the floor in front of me.

At first he lay smack on his chest, so that I could not lift his huge yellow feet or check his belly. But as I plied the rake on the back of his neck, and gobs and clouds of undercoat began to come loose, he relaxed and rolled to his side.

Since we switched dog foods, from Pedigree to Canidae, Babe's coat has been undergoing a transformation. His grubby, smelly old undercoat is coming loose, leaving lustrous soft fur behind. The pile of loose hair that piled up beside me was the size of an ottoman, and after a half an hour of raking, we both wore out. His neck, left shoulder, and a bit of his left side are done. He'd had enough, I'd had enough. He was ready for the slicker brush and a cookie.

Babe weighs about 100 pounds. He's a formidable beast. I don't worry about him with a three-year-old in the house because he's bred to protect. On the other hand, I don't let the kid play in the same room he's in unsupervised. That would be just stupid. He could decide that the salesman at the door needs to be deterred and knock the kid down getting to his objective. He's so old that if she accidentally fell on him, she could cripple him fatally. Safeguards have to be taken.

Babe's tail is as thick as my calf, and as I lifted his tail today to brush his ivory pantaloons, I drew back in shock. His whole ass was as green as grass. After an initial nanosecond of panic, I realized that Babe had been keeping the kid company while she drew green chalk illustrations on the porch.

How many times have I said this? "Good dog, Babe."