I have never washed a dog in the bath tub before. I have read about such adventures, but never had the occasion or interest to subject myself and my bathroom to such torture. I think in my early days as a pet owner I bathed cats .... but not often - one could suffer great harm attempting that activity regularly. But now I'm a dog owner, and occasionally dogs require bathing.
In California, my home has an outdoor dog washing station, a heavy umbrella stand from an old patio set, with an old leash permanently attached. And it was used once or twice a year, strictly for fun and bonding on warm summer days, or when Lily's neck got so stinky I couldn't stand it anymore.
My dogs tolerated the bathing ritual very politely, but shook their furry wet bodies regularly to make sure we all enjoyed the experience equally. I laid half a dozen large dog towels on the warm concrete and when released from the water torture, they ran from town to town, oops, towel to towel, rolling on their backs and rubbing their faces. Then Lily tried to run into the backyard to roll in the dirt, and Network tried to run in the house to roll on my bed. Like I said - once or twice a year was just the right frequency for that bonding exercise.
So, yesterday, when the new vet said my new dog had a "skin condition" and needed a weekly bath, I wondered yet again, What Have I Gotten Myself Into?!? (I'll have to write that blog entry, out of sequence, next.)
As I prepared the battleground, he munched away on a tennis ball, following me happily from room to room as I gathered up supplies. A leash, oatmeal shampoo, Pet Hair-Snare to cover the drain and keep the hair top-side, a plastic container for transferring water onto said animal, in lieu of a hand-held shower head on a hose, and some dog towels. A totally bath-paranoid dog might, at this point, already have put 2 and 2 together and hidden in a closet. So far the pup gave no clue that he understood that storm clouds were brewing to darken his sunny Saturday afternoon.
Bathroom door closed, I started the water running, then stripped down to shorts and t-shirt. Collar off the dog, I slipped a noose around his neck. Then I had to stop and think. Do I pick him up and put him in. Do I get in first and pull him over. I know he can get in by himself - he'd hopped in, and out, a few times on frantic runs around the apartment, trying to escape his itchy ears in the middle of the night. So I faced my first hurdle, almost literally.
I decided to step in first...
[insert miracle here - some of you may be familiar with a certain canine comic strip]
This is where my little Sunny proved once again what a darling little angel he is.
He gingerly stepped into the tub all by himself!
Now tell me people, does this ever happen!?! Will it ever happen again?!?
With the leash strapped around my legs, I started watering him down. This is where he's supposed to shake and soak me and the bathroom, right? He just stood stock still and, well, didn't actually smile, but just allowed it to happen. I rubbed the soap in, let it sit, rinsed him off, and the only complaint I had was a sore back from leaning over him for ten minutes.
I might as well stop writing now. I obviously have NO story worth telling.
But alas ...
He got a good toweling off. I stepped out of the tub. He very carefully stepped out behind me, completely unassisted, no unsafe leaping off wet surfaces that could damage his newly recovered knee implant.
And then he shook. But this skinny little dog has hardly any hair, so - pff - I barely noticed.
Please, please, please, let him be as willing ... same time next week, and the next, and the next.
Sunny and I at his adoption 2 days ago
No comments:
Post a Comment