I took Buddy the dog for a long walk around the hood the other day. He was thrilled. I think dogs forget that the “out there” exists when they haven’t seen much of it for months.
All that melting snow turned everything to muck, and most of it stuck to Buddy. Much to his dismay, this necessitated a B-A-T-H in the T-U-B. Buddy hates having a B-A-T-H and wonders why he can’t stay D-I-R-T-Y. I’ve tried to explain it to him, but he still prefers D-I-R-T to W-A-T-E-R.
Apartment living makes the B-A-T-H a bit of a challenge. I no longer have a laundry tub so I have to use the bathtub. Once in, Buddy prefers to stand as far away from faucet (and me) as possible. This time, though, I had a plan: I got in with him. Buddy never saw that coming.
He survived his ordeal, though, and once out of the porcelain container of death he was a happy camper. He plopped himself on the towel and started falling asleep before his head hit the ground.