Tatersaurus Rex

Groomer's of the world beware: there's new competition in town.  Butt-Face Groomers is now open for business (guess who came up with the name)!

But let me explain how our new enterprise came to be:

We are house and dog-sitting for our friends Murther and Tim, who are in the States for the next few weeks. They live on a beautiful farm in a remote area of San Luis that is only accessible two ways: you can walk down (and back up) a one mile horse-trail that is steep (about a half mile change in elevation on the hike), rocky, and very muddy. Or you can take their driveway, which eventually drops you on the main road that connects San Luis and Monteverde.  Now, this driveway is no ordinary driveway.  To successfully navigate the driveway, you need to travel on foot, or by motorcycle, quad, horse, or some very powerful, four-wheel drive vehicle. If you take the driveway route, it's only a 6.4 kilometer hike/drive to get to the Institute (where we work), but climbing one of the steepest mountain roads I've ever encountered. The walk takes me a little less than two hours.  To drive it can take nearly an hour. 

So on this gorgeous but isolated farm, Tim and Murtha built (designed and constructed themselves) an amazingly beautiful house that overlooks the mountains of San Luis and the Gulf of Nicoya. Just one of the perks? One can do his business (bathroom business, that is), while gazing at this breathtaking scene through the wall to ceiling window opened or closed. They generate their own electricity using a hydropowered generator that takes advantage of the steep terrain above their house. Using a system of tubing, they capture water from high points along the mountain ridge and it is channeled into a generator, whereby it is converted to power. They have a small recreational pond in their front yard that is filled with the used water. One can zipline from a tree in their frontyard into the pond or simply take a refreshing dip.

They also have a 10 year old yellow lab named Tater. If there is a dog heaven on earth, I'm pretty sure Tater is in it. He doesn't bother to sit or stand up while eating his food (his shoulders are broad enough that his very large dog bowl rests comfortably between his two front legs). Tater roams the farm freely all day long, climbs up and down the mountains, basks in the sun, and takes daily swims in the pond. Before heading up the mountain or upon returning from a walk, Tater will take a dip in the pond to cool himself off. His affinity for water, coupled with his very long hair and the high humidity of the area, ensures that Tater is almost always damp.

His thick undercoat easily becomes matted and filled with dreadlocks. Hours of lying in the grass, wading in the pond, and rolling in mystery materials guarantees that those matted, dreaded bits of fur are filled with all sorts of interesting treasures. As I eluded to earlier, his physical attributes, coupled with his behavior and the climate are a dangerous combination. While it's true that Tater might be the sweetest, calmest, most laidback dog on earth, he also might be the smelliest.

When Tim and Murtha asked us if we could dog-sit, I immediately asked them if we could shave Tater. And though Murtha didn't dismiss the idea, she did not enthusiastically endorse it either.

After one full day on the farm, I got prepared to hike up the mountain to meet Ernesto's mom, aunt, and cousins, who were visiting for a few days. I called Kaia, who came trotting up to me covered in something brown, gooey, and smelling of shit. The stench was such that it required immediate attention and Kaia got a bath before we began our hike. But all the way up the mountain I smelled something that reeked so terribly I found myself holding my breath (which really isn't a good idea considering the demands of the hike). Upon further investigation, I ruled out Kaia as the culprit. Then I thought perhaps I stunk - maybe my shorts had come in contact with the substance during her bath. But no, they smelled fine.  It wasn't Charlie either. And as we approached our house, I bent down to give Tater a sniff and nearly passed out. Though Tater hadn't rolled in anything that I could see, he was emitting a smell of shit and dead animal so potent that it's truely beyond description. Ernesto's mom and aunt were just as overwhelmed and Tater was forced to remain under our front porch for the duration of the visit.
Later, back at Tim and Murtha's house, the stench was so overpowering that I had difficulty sleeping in the upstairs bedroom. Tater was downstairs. In another part of the house.  And when Tater came over to Ernesto and me for some head rubs the next morning, neither of us could bring ourselves to touch him. And when the sweetest dog on earth can't enjoy a snuggle, it's time for action.

Ernesto and I bathed Tater the next morning, which unearthed all sorts of delightful treats, including what Ernesto thought were flea eggs but I'm sure were tiny mold colonies. A half hour later and Tater didn't smell great, but he didn't smell terrible either. And the mold and/or flea eggs might not have been completely eradicated, but at least weren't visible to the naked eye.  Tater enjoyed the drying process and then melted happily onto the porch as Ernesto and I each got a pair of scissors and began removing most of Tater's hair.

The entire process took over two hours. Ernesto got into the spirit and made artisitic contributions to Tater's new look, most notably to his tail. 

See for yourself whether our grooming competition (or dogs, perhaps) should be scared. Be sure to watch the video with sound.

(And to mom, Emily, and Fran, my editors:  Yes, I know I spelled "saurus" incorrectly in the video, and "Gulf" incorrectly in the original post!  One day I will proofread pre-publication!)

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