Carol’s Column

Snappy hint for canine canines

Do you remember that advertisement that showed a rather sad looking young man with mournful eyes and a dimpled chin? Alas, he never smiled.

The reason he never smiled was because he suffered from something opprobrious, something even his best friends could not bring themselves to mention.

Halitosis.

Halitosis, which follows directly after halibut in the Pocket Oxford Dictionary, is defined as “foul breath”.

Fortunately, in the ad, our winsome hero is introduced to Sparkle toothpaste which immediately freshens, brightens and sanitises his teeth and mouth causing his halitosis to instantly vanish.

Which is why when I saw an article referring to the prevention of halitosis in man’s best friend, I was intrigued because, in this household, where three of man’s best friends reside, halitosis is a problem.

Especially with Henry the Hog.

We first noticed it a few months ago while sitting at the diningroom table.

“What is that horrible smell?” asked my teenage daughter.

We all wriggled uncomfortably in our chairs which is what happens when such an embarrassing question is asked.

Nicky looked under the table. “It’s Henry the Hog,” she said, “he stinks.”

This was a tactless thing to say about a venerable member of the family. But nevertheless, in the way that dogs do, the Hog, a small, black, square dog with bald backside and large ruff, wagged his 16-year-old tail and smiled at the extra attention he was receiving.

And, as he smiled, a horrible smell issued forth from his canine canines.

Which was when I recalled the article I’d read in which Professor Colin Harvey of Pennsylvania University in the United States emphasised the importance of toothcare for dogs.

“Daily tooth-brushing and gum care is imperative for dogs,” he was quoted as saying. “Animals are important providers of a non-demanding companionship in our busy world. But if you come home to a boisterous welcome from your dog, and there is a severe dose of halitosis, that can take the edge off this interaction.”

It was obvious that the interaction between Henry the Hog and the family was becoming severely strained.

My oldest unmarried son booked an appointment at the dentist for the Hog. Three hours and R321 later, he and Henry the Hog returned home. Henry looked positively dashing with his bright, white teeth, flashing against his black snout.

The dentist advised us to send Henry the Hog to a dental hygienist once a month to ensure his teeth were kept in tip-top condition.

“He also recommended a new liver-flavoured toothpaste especially for dogs,” said Barry.

We scoured the shelves for the liver-flavour toothpaste but there was none to be found, so I phoned my vet.

“It hasn’t yet reached South Africa,” he confirmed. “But it is available in the UK and the States. It probably has to do with sanctions.”

Meanwhile, Henry the Hog refused point blank to brush his teeth with an ordinary toothpaste.

“I can’t blame him, it’s bad for his image,” said Nicky. “What self-respecting hound brushes his teeth with a green-striped spearmint gel?”

Fortunately, after much difficulty, we managed to acquire a tube of liver-flavoured toothpaste from friends who’d just returned from Hollywood.

Henry loved it and the daily chore of brushing his teeth became a pleasure.

And then on Friday morning, the toothpaste vanished.

We were distraught.

Just then my husband returned from work. A daily event. He was in rare good humour. “That new liver spread is wonderful,” he said enthusiastically.

“What are you going to do, Ma?” whispered Nicky.

Which is preferable? A socially acceptable halitosis-free dog or a well-fed spouse?

It’s a difficult choice.

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