Bath Time
Today the humans gave me a bath. Not my most favourite of things to be honest and I thought I had got away with it this summer. The last one I had many months ago was in Spain in a purpose-built dog bath. I used to get taken to a dog grooming salon down the road, but I didn’t like that much either. I once pulled all of the clean towels off the shelves onto the floor just to let them know I wasn’t happy about being put under a giant hairdryer.
They did their usual pre bath time preparations, propping the stair gate open, gathering towels and discussed logistics of getting me in and out of the bath. I’ve been snuffling some extra food to bulk up in case of an event like this - the bigger I am, the more difficult it is for them.
I knew exactly what was going on. I didn’t like to point out that perhaps it might have been more appropriate to have given me a bath last week when a massive seagull did a poo all down my back!
After I was coaxed upstairs, I managed to evade capture for a while, but they cornered me eventually and picked me up. I made myself as long as I could (which is pretty long) and spread my arms wide enough so they couldn’t fit me through the bathroom door. After a funny sideways shuffle and a back straining hoist they had me in.
I actually quite enjoy it when I’m in, not that I would let them know that. They lathered me in some overpriced dog shampoo, which I have to admit did actually make my fur smell less fusty. I managed to shake before they had covered me in a towel and made a swift yet clumsy escape over the edge of the bath and down the stairs.
Needless to say I was wary of the humans for the rest of the day. A measly biscuit was not going to placate me after that ordeal, so I held my ground until they gave in and got the cheese from the fridge.
I don’t know what he’s smiling for!
