The Smell of Unconditional Snorgles

(Springender Hund by Rudolf Koller, 1856)

I became a “pet parent” in September of 2016. I take a ridiculous amount of pictures of my dog, I think about her all the time, I worry about her health and wellness and happiness (dog walker, pet insurance, BarkBox subscription, everything - check). I have always been an animal lover, but this is the first pup of my own, as an adult. We’d had pets growing up, but a childhood family pet is different - you’re not truly responsible for the life and livelihood of the little critters, you coexist under someone else’s roof and if things go bad, (hopefully) an adult or parent will pick up the pieces. Now that weight rests on my shoulders, and it has been thrilling and lovely, but also anxiety-inducing and heart-wrenching and “dear God, what have I done!” has entered my mind more than a few times. Falling in love always means there will be a falling out of love (aka a death) looming in the future, and these sorts of emotions and horrible thoughts are amplified when you suffer from anxiety.

But for now, each day is a blessing with her. Perhaps that is one of the more gentle lessons about love and anxiety - whether it be a person or a pet - that you make each day count because loss is somewhere along the timeline. I sometimes wonder if normals have this same thought process? I constantly worry about loss, using words like “I can’t imagine” which is absurd considering I imagine it really quite frequently.

So within the anxiety of love and loss, there is this gift, where we see the forest for the trees, and we take in moments and know their worth. For that I am grateful. And one of the things that endears me to this silly, wonderful, lovable pup is her smell. 

Growing up, our family dog had a very strong scent of a sporting dog. He most often smelled like the proverbial “wet dog” - that rank, fishy, dirty dog smell. I’ve been around other people’s dogs and they never struck me as smelling particularly good; they smelled like dogs. And I realize this is a personal journey of scent - to love the way your own dog smells. I realize this is because I love her and am bonded to her. But when you kick that logic out, I gotta say… my dog smells like sunshine. She smells like dried hay, clean feathers and homemade blankets. Sometimes I feed her salmon or tuna and she is a stinky little mess, but when she’s sleeping, curled up in a ball, she smells like a kitten (we even call her Kitty). Her paws don’t smell like Cheetos, they smell like saltines. Sometimes her ears get borderline offensive (which delights me to no end, because an unassuming dog being insulted by “you’re stinky” is hilarious to me), they have a stench of honey and puppy-body odor.

I know mothers and fathers love their babies’ smell, but I hadn’t read too much about falling in love with my dog’s smell. Does this make me a weirdo? Sure, why not. I’ll take it. *smothers face into pup’s fur*

This post originally appeared on my perfume blog, L’eau, on March 2, 2017.

Some of the most important parts of pet parenthood are our memories, moments, or celebrations together. It could be adopting a pet and starting a life together, or the heartbreak when you must say goodbye. You can share your story by drafting it yourself, or hit me up to interview you. Email monpetitchewchew@gmail.com and we can get started.