The Keen Scents of Millie

What is it that changes the scent of Millie’s fur from one day to the next? All the smells repeat themselves, but not consistently. It’s always a surprise.

In thirteen years of Millie’s life, I’ve drawn in eight different fragrances while nuzzling her sweet face, neck, and body. Those long wavy ears, her paws, and that fluffy, featherlike tail sweeping the kitchen floor, swishing back and forth. 

At precisely 6:30 each morning, Millie stirs at the foot of my bed, extending one back leg long behind her, like an arabesque, then the other. She shifts her tiny body backward, lifting her tail high, to stretch her front legs in downward dog pose. After a good long stretch and a wide yawn, I say, “That’s a big yawn for a little girl,” and knowing I’m awake now, she bolts to my side of the bed. I’m lying there face up, pondering whether to stay snuggled under the comforter for a few more minutes, or get up and greet the day. Suddenly, Millie pounces on me, crouching down longwise across my chest and belly, and wraps her front paws around my neck while licking my chin, my cheeks, my nose, as if she hasn’t seen me for days. She anticipates her morning massage, tail wagging wildly. Her round black eyes take on a dreamy expression as I trace my hands up and down her spine and around her dangling ears. 

After a few minutes of this morning routine, I ask, “Millie, shall we get up and make some coffee?” I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’ve said this to her every morning since she was eight weeks old. Once she hears those words, it’s off to the edge of the bed to wait until I sweep her up and take her outside for a potty. On our way to the back door, I get my first true whiff of the top of Millie’s head when I kiss her. Often, I smell a Polly Pocket doll. The original Polly Pocket toys were plastic cases that opened to form a dollhouse for Polly Pocket figurines less than an inch tall. Those dolls were popular in the 1990’s when my daughter was a toddler. It’s a mystery how that smell has translated to my dog. 

On other days, Millie smells like cake. Not chocolate, or lemon, or strawberry cake. Just plain yellow cake without frosting or sprinkles. Simply sweet.

Then there are days when Millie’s scent is not so sweet. Hot, sunny days when she lounges on the back patio enjoying nature, then wanders onto the lawn, or sneaks around bushes to discover something new. It is then that she smells of the sun, or dirt, depending on where she’s been. On other days, if Millie is stressed, or eats a little something off limits, she smells a bit like poop. Not so pleasant, but still, it’s a Millie smell.

Sometimes, Millie brings home scents from wherever we visit. She used to have a pet-sitter whose home exploded with the smell of potpourri, a mixture of dried petals and spices, probably to cover up odors from three small dogs and a cat sharing one room. For days after returning home from Miss Peggy’s house, Millie smelled of fresh orange peel, cinnamon sticks, cranberries, and cloves. 

One smell I don’t welcome is one she brings home from the vet. An institutional smell. Like chemicals and deodorizers and this and that, and all the things that remind me of unhappy animals and sometimes their people. I’m glad that smell doesn’t get much further than the car. 

Maybe the best scent of all is the bath powder sprinkled onto Millie’s coat by her adored groomer. We drive 22 miles to see Tricia, who runs her business from a ranch house where we see a horse, a goat, and chickens right outside the salon door. We drive far because she’s gentle and treats Millie with respect while Millie tolerates all the filing, scrubbing, clipping, and shaving. When her spa day comes to an end, Millie struts out of there with a new bandana for the season and utter confidence. She’s young and vibrant again. Light on her feet. Bouncing. A happy girl.

The essence of Millie is everywhere. In my home. My car. On the patio. In the park. It’s a scent that will always stay with me. Oh, how I love my Millie!