Poor baby! Sounds like she needs lots of love and skritches and many special treats to show her that she’s a good girl and didn’t do anything wrong!
Did the peroxide + baking soda and doggie shampooing work, or is there still a lingering odor? I found that Nature’s Miracle Skunk Odor Remover followed by doggie shampoo worked well when Bernie got skunked. It was a long time ago and I don’t remember if it may have taken two such bath cycles to do it, but at any rate, it worked. Pretty soon I could stick my face into the top of his fuzzy head again!
It was particularly awful with Bernie because of his size and thick fur, and he hated baths. The only good part was that he didn’t seem to care about it that much himself – he cheerfully bounded into the house stinking to high heaven but completely unperturbed!
Poor puppy! From that look on her face, she thinks she did something wrong, but she doesn’t know what it was and is worried about accidentally doing it again. Give some reassuring pats so she knows you still love her! (which you’ve probably already done)
This was Mac after his 3rd wash after getting skunked. Not even remotely sorry. He ran inside, rubbed his face all over my jeans that then had to be destroyed then got multiple warm washes which as far as he was concerned was just a whole lot of scritches.
The HP/BS/Dawn mixture always worked with my dogs. Understand I also bought one of those sponge/scouring pads things and used it to work in the solution - I don’t have time to waste and experience has shown the quicker this is resolved the easier for all.
Today, Luna is doing far better and is lying on her back, enjoying getting her armpit scratched, leg stretched to the max in enjoyment. Behind her, I put the ottoman in the big chair so You Know Who doesn’t sleep on it.
Earlier, we went back outside during night time and Luna didn’t get sprayed. She’s just going to have to learn to appreciate nature somehow, other than attacking it.
When ever he got wet the odor would come out again, just very mildly, took a couple months for it to fully wear off. Fortunately he hated getting wet unless it was a warm bath.
He was 100% Lab , but of Australian stock ( we got him in Malaysia) and I think labs down there are really bred for pets and have diverged a bit from any working dogs so may look a bit different , he had a pretty thick coat (although shaved belly in that photo due to an OP to remove a lump)
There certainly wasn’t a working dog gene in Mac that’s for sure, he hated getting wet, and would not ever get into swim and couldn’t figure out fetching a ball.
The only labrador retriever aspect we could see was on a walk on the way out he would have his nose buried in every piece of dirt, but on the way back he would carry the loop of the leash in his mouth and walk quickly home so deep down he knew he was supposed to bring something back.
I guess he still has damp fur which makes it look a bit Goldie like
In the picture he looks rather furry for a Lab, but that may just be the lighting, or maybe the Australian variant. Anyway, he’s gorgeous!
Speaking of furry … while I’m here, Bernie says hi!
One might notice what looks like dog hair all over the carpet. It is. Welcome to the home of a Bernese Mountain Dog. You can see where the hair comes from!
– my memory’s not entirely clear, but I think that may be what one of the dogs was who came running up to me in that vineyard all those years ago.
I was working alone, in a vineyard which was partway down a dead end road, followed by a long lane into the section of vineyard I was in. I looked up from the vine I was pruning, and two Very Large Dogs were headed for me at a run.
One of them was a Great Dane. The other was shorter and stockier but overall probably in the same size range, and in my memory looked a lot like that Bernese. I stood entirely still and they came right up to me, gave me a good sniff, let me scratch their ears and check their collars (which showed an address on that road, so I figured they knew their way home), and then wandered off again; leaving me thinking that it was a really good thing that I wasn’t afraid of dogs and knew something about how to judge the attitude by the set of ears and tail. (though standing still was probably the right thing to do in any case; I was once out for a walk on back roads and a dog came charging at me full speed with ill, or at least territory-defensive, intent. I stood dead still and he changed his mind at the last instant and put on the brakes; his teeth clashed together right in front of my shin, leaving a small bruise which I discovered later. If I’d run, or tried to attack him, I don’t think things would have come out very well at all.)
Oh, look at Bernie’s smiling face! How could you even think of him in terms of aggression? Bernie wouldn’t hurt a fly! When I took him on walks, neighbourhood cats would frequently hiss at him from the safety of their front porches or behind their owner’s shrubbery. He just ignored them. Wouldn’t even bother to look at them!
I didn’t, really. The dogs in the vineyard were both very nice polite dogs, and even when I first saw them headed for me I thought they were probably just coming to say hi. But I know people who are just plain afraid of dogs and/or seriously ignorant about them, and who may well react badly.
Where I’d been working a few years before that, in a group of workers, I was warned about a particular dog – walk a big circle around that house, don’t go near it, that nasty dog comes out and bites people! When I asked further about what had happened, it turned out that once when the workers were walking past that house one of them, afraid that the dog was going to bite her, had gone towards the dog and jabbed it with her picking shears, intending to warn it to stay back. At which point, quite reasonably in my point of view, the dog did bite her.
And that appears to include some dog owners. I was going to add this little story to my earlier post, but ran out of edit time.
One time on one of our walks, we passed someone walking a yappy little terrier of some kind who got all bent out of shape (I mean the person, not the terrier, though actually it was both of them) and accused Bernie of harassing his dog. I stopped, walked back, and confronted him. I wanted him to plainly see what was going on. What was going on was that his stupid little paramecium of a mutt was leaping up and down, barking its little head off, snapping at the air, straining at its tiny little leash, while Bernie calmly sat there waiting to continue his walk. “Who’s the aggressor here, idiot?” I said, and Bernie and I walked off.
Of course there are Bad Dogs, but mostly there are Ignorant People. And even when there are dangerous dogs, unless they have rabies or some other similar disease, it’s usually the result of mistreatment by stupid humans. There’s a reason they say that all dogs go to heaven.
I don’t know about that. Bernie taking the leash in his mouth was an assertion of control, but he was definitely an alpha male. Example: when I got a new car (a new minivan), I still had the old one sitting in the driveway. I took Bernie out to the new one, opened the sliding door, and went “hop in!”. Bernie looked inside, looked at me, took the leash in his mouth, and proceeded to lead me by the leash. I followed along out of curiosity. He led me over to the old minivan, over to the other side where on that model the only sliding door was, sat down in front of the door, and looked at me, his meaning plain as day!
