The Bath

The Brats

When we got up yesterday morning, it was mild and delightful. So by 9 a.m., I had everything in place to lure the dogs, one at a time, into the hall bathroom for a bath.

You don't mention the word, "bath", when trying to do this. Just in case you didn't know that.

Getting the bathroom ready means I do not, under any circumstances, let the dogs see what I am doing. So they were out in the backyard while I pulled a stack of towels out of the linen closet, hooked up the spray attachment to the shower, and quietly closed my bedroom door. More on that later.

The dogs came in, had a Meaty Bone, and I bent down and scooped Jake up in my arms, carrying him to the bathroom. Before I could kick the door shut, the Little Shit was out of my arms, down the hallway, and playing with his sister in the living room. All attempts to capture him failed. Start over. Back outside to let them run off the energy, because now they know what is up, what mom plans on doing, and let a few minutes pass.

It took me another 15 minutes to capture this dog. Now, once he is in the tub, wet with shampoo being massaged into his back, he's fine. He'll allow me to scrub his entire body, trim his facial hair, whatever. It's getting him into the tub that has become a challenge. Gracie, on the other hand, walks down the hall with me, resigned, knowing that it is useless to protest. Yes, I have to pick her up and place her in the tub, but she stands there, looking pathetic, allowing the entire process.

The reason for closing the bedroom door is that my darling Diva Aussie will head for my bed once released from the bathroom. Dripping water, she just LOVES to roll on the quilts and pillows, knowing full well that this annoys the crap out of mom.

Is this a lot of work? Yes, it is. Why don't I take them to a groomer? Because this is one chore I am still capable of performing, and I'm cheap like that. Why pay someone to do what you can do yourself? Also, I am fiercely protective of my dogs. Just the way I am.

Today Gracie and Jake are both very loving, very close to me. "Mom, we smell good. Pet us." Spoiled rotten brats, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Have a good one.
Linda