Last Thursday was Grandparents day at Moo’s kindergarten. Juicy Tomato organised both of her folks along with my Mum to attend. My Dad, The Big Dave, was unavailable as he died about two years ago
When The Tomato told me about Grandparents day we talked about how much The Big Dave would have enjoyed it. He would have done a few things. He would have played poison ball with the kids and thrown the ball harder than he probably should at the boys, particularly the one’s that he thought were a bit too cheeky.
And he would have told the kids his story about why dogs sniff each other’s bums. It’s ridiculous and I’m not sure what its origins are. It goes like this.
Back in the olden days the wisest dogs decided that they should hold a meeting. A dog meeting. They planned to invite all the dogs from all over the world so it was going to be a very large meeting indeed. There were many issues that needed to be discussed. What sort of jobs were suitable for dogs, and indeed what breeds were suitable for each particular job? Clearly Greyhounds were very fast and were good at racing. Beagles were sniffers so were good at chasing foxes. Border Collies were good at working with sheep. And Labradors, well, they were good at being Labradors and laying by open fires.
All the dogs agreed that it was their god given right to chase cats.
On the appointed day, at the appointed time all the dogs gathered at a large meeting hall in London. There was much excitement, and wagging of tails and general yapping as the dogs waited to be admitted. Two large St Bernards, one mostly black and white the other mostly brown and white, faced the throng from the hall’s marble staircase and called for quiet. Each held a clipboard.
“A bit of shush please.” Called the mostly brown and white one as he adjusted the small wooden cask which hung from his collar.
“Thank you dogs of the world for making the effort to be here today for our inaugural general meeting. It is a very exciting day. Some of you have travelled a very long way to be here. Very shortly we will proceed inside. First of all you will need to register with one of us where you shall receive a name tag and seat allocation. Secondly, before proceeding into the great hall you will all be required to take off your bottom and hang it on your allocated peg in the foyer. We have had a few reports of fleas and general stinky bum and, as I’m sure you all can appreciate, having so many dogs in such a confined space can be a little unhygienic.” As he said the last part he cast an imposing eye towards a group of Old English Sheep Dogs.
The dogs did as instructed. After receiving their name tags they went into the foyer, took off their bottom’s and placed them on the appropriate peg before entering the great hall and taking their seats.
An hour or two passed. A Red Setter stood at the podium droning on about how to identify particular types of cats and their relative strengths and weaknesses. Some of the dogs up the back were getting restless and were murmuring amongst themselves.
A wiry Jack Russell Terrier sprung into the great hall from a side door near the podium. He was in such a state it took him a moment to catch his breath.
“FIRE, FIRE.” He screamed. ”There’s a fire. Run, run for your lives. We’re all going to die. Run.” He was about to say something else when in the scramble to evacuate he was sandwiched between panicking Dobermans and abruptly cut off.
It was chaos. The dogs raced towards the doors tripping over chairs, knocking into each other, causing a massive dog crush. They reached the foyer and searched frantically for the peg which held their bottom but there wasn’t time. They all simply grabbed the first one they saw and fled into the night. Not a single dog left with the right bottom.
So to this day, when dogs meet they sniff each other’s bums trying to find their own bum, their one true bum, that they lost at the great dog meeting all those years ago.