wash the dog

sunday was a glorious autumn afternoon. clear skies, crisp air. perfect football weather. perfect weather to stay inside a watch football and let the doggies have their own fun in the yard during the game.

the only non-glorious part was the heavy rains that fell earlier in the week, turning the yard into a puppy paradise for sloshing about in the mud. nothing that bathtime can't take fix...

we took sadie into the house for her first bath -- which was a breeze. she didn't want to get in the tub but after we got her in, she was fine. a little trembly, but fine. she loved the attention -- surprise, surprise. the big tough rottie loved being lathered up and massaged by her mommy.

chloe, my golden retriever, knew what the hell was happening and was freaking out in the yard. it must have been like at the death camps in WWII -- having some vague idea of what was happening, not knowing if you were next, worrying about your sister who was taken first. it was a traumatizing half-hour for chloe, now alone in the muddy, muddy yard.

when we finally brought her in, it took my brother and husband to lift her and bring her to the bathroom. she did her best impression of ghandi imitating a wet noodle.

until we actually got her into the tub, where she quickly went into rigor mortis.

do you know how hard it is to bath a dog whose limbs won't move?

i couldn't pick up her feet to wash underneath without breaking through the tub. then slowly she began her escape artist attempt. we realized this when we discovered only two legs in the actual tub -- the other two had climbed the bathroom wall and she was determined to push her way out.

all this happened while she wailed as if it is not water, but really battery acid that touched her skin... friggin' baby. it's not like the water temperature was too hot or too cold, remember i'm sloshing around in it myself!

bathing chloe is really a three-person job -- one to hold the leash to hold up the head, one to crawl around and actually wash her, and one to hold the back legs, either up (her other trick is to drop down into the fetal position) or down (from climbing the tub walls). drying her off is a little easier as she stands like with a "well, dry me off, bitch" look on her face... such a brat.

after the pre-requisite make-up cookies, she wouldn't come near me the rest of the night. she lay on her bed, licking her "wounds" while drying by the fireplace.

you may laugh at the money i spend to take her to the groomers but it's worth every freakin' penny to not have to go through that. i'll gladly pay someone else for the experience.