How to mitigate a large muddy dog

Recently a friend and reader wanted to know some tips on managing St. Bernard drool. What drool?

The question got me thinking about other, more immediate problems perhaps less top-of-mind for my Manhattanite pal. Like mud mitigation. Whether you have a backyard, open space or a tiny corner of grass under an urban tree, a large dog will find the mud. Here are some mud management tips that we've discovered:

1. Instead of mud flaps, try a T-shirt. A medium-sized woman's T-shirt works great on a 125-lb. Saint. We especially like long-sleeved jerseys, which cover up the mud-magnet front legs nicely. The waist area can droop and drag as it gets wet, so use a string or rubber band to keep it tight. A place called Muddy Mutts offers a dog raincoat for this purpose, but I suspect the waders-style covering might prove embarrassing for the animal.
   
2. When you get home, pull off the T-shirt and voila! Clean fur, except for the feet.
3. A good foot wash with the garden hose can take care of the remaining mess. Foot baths work even better, but our Saints don't like water between their toes for prolonged periods.
4. Towel dry. This rub-down is often much-loved by the big dog, so a word of advice: Occasionally provide the towel-dry when the animal is not muddy or wet. Some people underestimate a Saint's intelligence. You do not want deliberate mud-gathering in order to prompt the luxurious towel rub.
   
5. It's best to assume that even a foot wash cannot get rid of those tiny bits of sand and muck that have worked their way up into the thick Saint fur. So, once you've thoroughly dried each paw, try socks. (More on this later.)
6. Even with all this, you may still find stray dirt around the house. So for the last step (or perhaps, resort), try using your old sheets as floor cover-ups. Now the tough part is getting your big dog to lie on top of the sheet instead of right next to it.

Lest readers think this is all too much, you do not need the socks and the sheets all at once. And manufacturers, please consider the potential of four-footed house jammies for the big dog. After all, if people will put coats and hats on their dogs for no purpose at all, why not make a covering that actually does some good?

What do you do to keep the mud outside, where it belongs? Please share your tips, too.

Leapin' Saints, Bernard!

Just when we thought that Daisy's escape artistry was a thing of the past, we find out that it isn't. When Sally and I stopped to get some smoked salmon from a local purveyor near Princeton Harbor, we would soon learn that Daisy has lost none of her agility or stealth. She was riding in the back of the Volvo wagon and had been on her best behavior all day. We parked on the street, directly in front of the fish market, leaving our Saint in the car, fast asleep. One thing we did differently, though. We had the back seats down so that she had more room to lie down. We also left the right front window down for more air circulation in the car. How likely was it that she could squeeze her considerable figure between the front bucket seats and exit the right passenger window?

After we bought our fish, I looked out the shop window at our car and said to Sally, "She must really be asleep and completely flat in the back of the wagon -- I can't even see her!" We quickly learned that I couldn't see her because she was not there. We rushed to the car and tried to figure out what had happened.

Our hearts sank as we looked in the empty wagon. There was no sign of her in the front seat, the back seat, or the way back. I looked up with worry at the busy highway not far from us. Then I saw her trotting down the sidewalk about two blocks away. Thinking quickly -- an infrequent occurrence -- I leapt into the car with Sally and drove discreetly drove down the road, passing Daisy, then stopping a half-block ahead of her. I got out of the car, opened the back of the wagon and turned toward our girl. She looked a little surprised, then quickened her pace. Her carriage suddenly appeared in front of her, inviting her to jump in. How could she resist? In a flash, she flew into the back of the car, alighting on her comfortable spot. She looked up at me, as if to say, "Why aren't you driving us home now?"

Well, at least we figured out a better way to get her back into the car if she ever bails out again on her own. Chasing her, we know, causes her to show how fast she can get away from you. But pulling up ahead and inviting her to join the party? Who woulda thought?

Winston tried to scare Daisy on purpose (possibly)!

I hate to think that Winston would try to scare Daisy on purpose, but what other reason could he have for dressing up as Dracula? I think Daisy's panicky behavior was completely appropriate under the circumstances. She knew that ferocious , undead Yorkie was going to bite her neck the first chance he got, end of story. If you don't believe me, take a look at the photographic evidence: unlike sleeping dogs, photos don't lie.

Her reaction to being tied up in the back yard was understandable, too, if we had remembered what happened to Nana, the delightful Saint Bernard who cared for and watched over the Darling children in "Peter Pan." Who could ever forget the heartbreaking scene in the Disney version of Peter Pan, poor Nana tethered to the ground while watching Peter and all the little Darlings -- Wendy, Tigger, Christopher Robin and Piglet (or whoever) -- flying off into the night. Recalling that scene is enough to drive any Saint Bernard to the edge. We have to consider the possibility that Daisy was distraught because she was worried that someone was going to spirit us away to Neverland without her. She probably knows that in the original story (not the Disney version), Nana got to go along to Neverland with Peter and the kids. Why Disney changed the story must be quite a story in itself. Daisy and I would both like to know why anyone would leave their beloved Saint behind.

Doubting neighbors

We find some people skeptical of Daisy's condition. They think we're the ones with a neurosis. One neighbor always shakes her head disapprovingly when when she walks by with her beagle. "It's the owners," she shouts to us as we cower behind the nearest truck. Another surprises us around a corner. "Just let her go, they'll work it out," he calls out as his yellow poodle comes running up and Daisy screeches in fright.

So we weren't surprised that some people seem to doubt whether one could really serve cocktails on Daisy's hindquarters. Here are some photos -- completely undoctored -- to prove our point.

View from the rear

Martini, anyone?

Miss Behavior

Oh my word, we've got to catch up on our blogging. Daisy's about to become famous. Or maybe infamous, I don't know. Word has it that her exploits will be featured in the July American Kennel Club Gazette.

The good news: Daisy has made some great improvements. The bad news: She is still scared to pieces by Chihuahuas and Golden Retrievers. And she still requires approximately 8 eggs and six cups of rice a day. We now supplement these offerings with some chopped-up greens and kidney beans. A little salmon or sardine juice adds just the right extra flavoring. Packaged dog food just doesn't sit well with her.

What's the latest? Nothing too terrible to report. No more sneaking out of the parked Volvo station wagon and running up a side road toward the fish market. Not as much high-decibel shrieking at the hint of four-footed movement several blocks away. No additional holes in the fence, although I did notice some scratches.

Daisy even attended our dear friends' wedding in Yosemite National Park. She missed the ceremony itself, but came down from her room to attend part of the reception. The Tenaya Hotel just outside the park actually offers a dog sitting service. We were thrilled! Daisy was disappointed with the dog houses they provided, though.



We did have an awkward moment during the wedding rehearsal when the groom rushed over and grabbed my arm with a look of concern. Someone else had been watching Daisy, who apparently had taken great interest in a Yorkshire Terrier. Paul pulled me over to the site of the incident and to meet his sister with the little pup. She didn't seem too concerned and I'm still not sure if a snap or a lunge was involved. But it really would not have been a good start to the wedding if Daisy had eaten the groom's sister's dog.



Here's Camus, the bride and groom's dog. He wanted to attend the reception, not sit in this stifling little tent. In the end, he won the tug-of-war.