A Fish Story

I won’t keep you in suspense. What’s worse is a dog who has rolled in a long-dead, rotten salmon carcass. Rolled at length and luxuriously, while ignoring the calls and whistles of her foster provider—even after being abandoned by the other dogs, who did heed their owners’ calls. Rolled and pressed both sides of her face and neck and shoulders in the carcass. Rolled so hard that she was dotted with chunks of rotten stinking flesh and slathered with greasy, fetid salmon fat. This is perhaps the most horrible thing a dog can do—to us. It’s also apparently one of the most wonderful things they can do for themselves.

I was out hiking with a friend and her 10-month-old German Shepherd, Timber. Like Maeve (my foster dog), Timber had been deprived of off-leash walks for a few days, and both young dogs were desperate for exercise, despite the fact that it was raining—not hard, but steadily. My friend and I met at a location that would take us on a loop around a woodsy part of the Oroville Wildlife Area, with the last mile of about three miles following the Feather River back to where we parked our cars.

Ordinarily, I stay well away from the river for a few months, starting in September, because the Feather is filled with salmon, who spawn in gravel beds in the frigid water. Remember, salmon die after spawning, and so, starting around September, the banks of the river (and the riverbed itself) become littered with dead salmon. Buzzards eat their fill of the dead fish, so much that they can barely fly after feasting. Foxes, coyotes, raccoons, crows—all sorts of other animals also consume the dead fish, dragging their carcasses well away from the river and up into the woods. In due time—perhaps late January—all that’s left of the carnage are some salmon backbones and some hunks of greasy fish skin, but right now, in mid-December, there are still a few stinking fleshy carcasses washing ashore here and there.

Still, though we were walking parallel to the river, we were staying below the levee that keeps the river from flooding. To get to the dead salmon, our dogs would have to run 150 feet or so up a steep embankment, cross the dirt road along the top of the levee, and then run down a nearly vertical bank to the river below. I felt confident that if our dogs started to run up the levee, we’d be able to call them back before they ran to the river.

But then the dogs spotted a deer, and were so preoccupied with the urge to give chase, we had to put them on leash, and they were pulling and generally being punks. So we decided to walk on the road on top of the levee, to put some distance between us and the woods that the deer disappeared into . . . which put us closer to the river.

We walked for probably a quarter mile or more with the dogs basically staying with us, before my darling dog Boone decided he wanted a drink of water and suddenly went over the embankment down toward the river, with foster dog Maeve at his heels. My friend called her dog and he stopped at the edge of the steep bank, watching my dogs (who were out of my sight, below). I shouted my emergency recall cue (“Boone, HERE!”) and I could see from Timber’s body language that Boone had heard me and responded pretty quickly; Timber bounced playfully backward in anticipation of Boone scrambling up the bank toward him, and then Boone himself appeared. But not Maeve. Oh, please dog, let it not be what I am afraid it is!

I called again. And again. And finally, a full minute later, here came Maeve. She was still a hundred feet away when my friend and I smelled her, and we both literally gagged.  The stench! It was absolutely the worst! And yet, I had to reward her for finally coming when called! I threw a handful of treats on the ground, and we headed back toward our cars, brainstorming the whole way: How could I get her to a bath without stinking up my car? Could I call my husband and ask him to come meet us with our truck? But she had never been in the back of a truck, even if I tied her in, it would likely freak her out. Did I have any crates that he could load into the truck? At the moment, I don’t. I had to make do.

Fortunately, I have thick blanket that I use to cover the back seat of my car. I ended up cross-tying Maeve in the back seat, using a leash tied to the grab handles above each of the back windows. I had to tie her short enough so she could not reach either door to lean on—she likes to put her head out of the window, and believe me, the only way I could drive without vomiting would be with all four windows all the way down. (If fish had gotten on the upholstery of my car, I would have to burn it to the ground. It would be unsellable.) Because Boone, too, seemed to have a little fish on him (perhaps just from colliding with Maeve as we walked), I made him ride in the back seat, too. I drove the five miles home trying not to breathe.

Oh, there is nothing as much fun as washing a dog outdoors in the rain (I was not going to bring her into the house!). I attached a garden hose to the hot water tap that usually serves my washing machine, and ran the hose out the small window in the back door. I filled several buckets with hot water, added just enough cold water to make the temperature comfortable for Maeve, but also warm enough to cut through the grease, and washed her four times: first with Dawn dish soap, then with a commercial de-skunking solution (which did not seem to significantly reduce the odor), then with the homemade de-skunking solution of hydrogen peroxide and baking soda (which did actually seem to help), and then once more with Dawn. Though I could still smell fish in her coat, my back could take no more. I dried her and put her in the Great Dane crate in my office.

Then I washed Boone, who had just a little fish smell on him. I used the last quart of hydrogen peroxide I had to make one more batch of de-skunking solution, and then washed him with Dawn. He got banished to my office to dry, too.

Lessons learned:

1. It’s not safe to take an off-leash dog within a quarter mile of the Feather River (or any river where salmon spawn) from September to at least (I’m going to guess) the end of January. Especially foster dogs who aren’t all that reliably trained yet.
2. Always keep an old blanket in your car when traveling with dogs. And an extra leash.
3. The home-prepared de-skunking solution works on other really disgusting, putrid odors, too.

I hope you can learn from my mistakes!

PS: Make me feel better: What’s the worst thing your dog has ever rolled in?