It's been chilly in Los Angeles so we've turned the heat on at the Detective Agency. The building's heater is as rocky Britney Spears' grip on reality, so the temperature inside the apartment range from Arctic to Third-Circle-of-Hell.
The result is that we're all suffering from a bit of dry skin, but none so much as Daisy. While most of her coat remains silky smooth, her belly -and most specifically, her nipples - get flaky and scaly, which makes her itch. The itching makes her scratch. She'll scratch 'til the point where her belly bleeds. Which will make her stop scratching - for a second. And then the cycle repeats.
Of course, she doesn't do this during the day. Daytime is spend curled up, snoozing in her crate or next to me on the couch or next to Will at his computer. No, scratchytime is reserved for 1am, after we've drifted into a light slumber. Night after night we wake up to thump-thump-thump-thump as her hind leg beats out a staccato rhythm. To say that it's keeping us up is the apex of understatement.
We've added flax oil and pumpkin to her food. We bathe her in the nectar of virgin goats. We've tried the humidifier to add some moisture to the air. But the only thing that seems to give her - and as a result, us - any relief is Udderly Smooth Udder Cream. Every night before we go to bed, one of us calls for the Wonderdog and rubs the thick, goopy white cream into Daisy's nipples.
But sometimes we forget. And it's those moments, when a sleepy Will reaches for me in the middle of the night, when his warm breath whispers sweetly in my ear:
I thought it was your turn to rub the nipples.
If someone bugged the Detective Agency, there's no question that we'd be arrested for something.
