Yes, very disgusting. And, good that you cannot see "way down deep in dere". The Dog's Weimaraner labyrinth for an ear quickly converts any ol' dust into a bio-rich sludge rivaling that of the Nile, the Ganges, the Tiber... or, those euwcky canals in Bangkok.
The tell-tale sign of an over-abundance of ear-gook is The Dog's incessant flapping or scratching of one or, both. Normally, this occurs while I am administering intense goolie-goolies on The Bumpy-headed Short-person. And, paar for the evening, who is also asleep in front of the TV tube. Nonetheless, I know then, Duty & a Q-tip calls.
The tell-tale sign of an over-abundance of ear-gook is The Dog's incessant flapping or scratching of one or, both. Normally, this occurs while I am administering intense goolie-goolies on The Bumpy-headed Short-person. And, paar for the evening, who is also asleep in front of the TV tube. Nonetheless, I know then, Duty & a Q-tip calls.
A Perfect World would be for The Dog to clean his own ears. No such luck. I am The Anoitted One to chase him around the house with a pack of Q-tips in hand. Certainly, The Short-person... who is a doctor too!!!... would ever deem to do so. No. In these sorts of cases, The Dog is mine. So be it.
The Dog seems to know... instinctively... that A Deep Cleaning is in his immediate future. And, even before I have gone to the upstairs bathroom for the tips. He dashes for either of one i suoi posti... a mattress-like safe haven and made so by official contract too... hoping to avoid the encounter. This tactic is useless. It leaves me no other choice, but to grab him by his green nylon collar and I yank him off his bed and over to a bright light for A Mud Confirmation. Blessedly, this actions keeps me within the contractual confines... i.e. of never administering medicines or Q-tips while The Dog is on either of i suoi posti. Naturally, The Dog attempts to forestall the impeding procedure by digging into the Oriental carpet... a very expensive one and a gift from The Short-person's mother... with his hugely long Weimarner nails. If the rug could talk, it would yell "OUCH!!!" They're sharp talons.
What I am given to see makes me want to swoon or... and, this 2nd one is a decidedly less pleasant option... of throwing up. No need to describe the scene "way down dere!" However, 10 to 12 Q-tips later, I stand up and say to The Dog... "It's all better, Moses!" Then, I have to go right to the Kitchen for a treat. If not, The Dog barks his absolute displeasure. So, I hurry, 'cause his ears are clean. Gads.
What I am given to see makes me want to swoon or... and, this 2nd one is a decidedly less pleasant option... of throwing up. No need to describe the scene "way down dere!" However, 10 to 12 Q-tips later, I stand up and say to The Dog... "It's all better, Moses!" Then, I have to go right to the Kitchen for a treat. If not, The Dog barks his absolute displeasure. So, I hurry, 'cause his ears are clean. Gads.
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