It's been beautiful around here for a few days, good opportunities for long cemetery walks and puppy training. Malcolm is very good about staying close to us on our strolls and he's going to be a good mole-killer, too. But much like Uncle Angus, Malcolm likes to sniff out dead animals and other disgusting substances and dive into them. We call it Rolling In Death, and it's a nasty habit that runs in the family.

To these kinds of dogs, the nastier and more rotten the smell the better it is, and they wriggle in it ecstatically every chance they get. Malcolm discovered a big patch of something dead yesterday and it didn't take long for him to start rolling around in it. Unlike Angus or Tucker (God rest his soul), Malcolm couldn't care less if we shriek in horror and yell at him to stop. He rolled around, ran off, came back, rolled around again, ran off, came back, rolled around again... Ick. All the windows got rolled down and I gagged the entire drive back to the house, while Malcolm just stuck his tongue out and smiled his goofy puppy smile and thought it was the greatest thing ever.
So Malcolm got his first bath yesterday, and now he smells like shampoo and puppy. He doesn't mind the water but the whole bath thing was a bit much. This morning we kept an extra close eye on him during our walk and he didn't find anything to get into.
He's a Cowboy Corgi, our Cowboy Corgi, and we love him despite his fascination and love of rolling in death.
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