On a lighter note today.
The Sharpei bath.
Note – This breed of dog naturally dislikes water and will avoid it like the plague, much like the dog above, except we don’t have a bathtub (appropriate for destruction) in this new house, so it’s outside with a hose until I can figure something out.
My dogs hate bathtime more than most.
Sweltering hot day, dogs are panting, dogs are as stinky as the day is revolting.
I think to myself suddenly… “I should bath the dogs.”
The other voice in my head says. “Don’t undertake THAT nightmare on your own!”
Some other voice (I have many) says “Ahh, but the man child is here, he can help!”
The sensible voice says. “You’re asking for trouble!”
I’m bathing the dogs.
I yell at the teenage son – man child with his nose glued to the computer screen.
“I need you to help me bath the dogs.”
“No NOW!” I positively roar.
(It’s the only way to make him move….act like the world is coming to an end.)
Grabbing the bottle of apple shampoo from the kids bathroom I march outside and get the dog lead.
The male Sharpei – Turtle….(Ok, ok, enough already about the name. I explained that in another post.)
Turtle, sees me grab the lead and almost wets his pants in excitement. Um, if he were wearing pants that is.
“A walk…a walk…I’m going on a WALK…oh happy day!”
Ohhhh, majorly sucky day.
I tell the man child to hold onto the lead for all he’s worth.
“Don’t let him get away!”
I turn the hose on which is aimed at the dog and it shoots out with unbelievable pressure like a fireman’s hose nearly knocking the dog over the fence.
Some minor adjustments. Don’t want to blast him into tomorrow.
But now the dog…Turtle, is whimpering like a baby…louder and louder the whimpers get until they become half growls half groans.
I’m hosing a donkey it seems because this is the sound he’s making.
“Heee haaaaw grrrrrr….aaaaaw.” (You have to be there to believe it.)
And now he starts REALLY pulling, wrapping himself and the lead around my sons legs, who is half laughing, half screaming that man child scream of his (he sounds like a donkey too) and I’m hosing EVERYTHING.
Everythings getting wetter except the donkey…um dog.
I’m drenched,my son is drenched, bark chip is sticking to our legs and the dog is moaning yet he is hardly even wet.
He’s got a weird coat…like it’s got about fifteen winter layers that are partially shed, so it takes forever to get down to the skin.
Finally, just when the donkey dogs moans have reached epic volumes and I fear he might pass out with the trauma of it all, I consider him wet enough to begin the lathering process.
Grabbing the bottle of apple shampoo (which now the children will associate with the smell of wet dog forever more. Sucks to be them.) I squirt a generous amount on the nice wet, incredibly stinky fur.
I begin to massage..deeply.
Turtle begins to buckle.
I don’t know WHY he does this?
It’s like he goes all limp and his back legs collapse….much like when you try to remove small children from a situation where they are having a major tantrum.
I think it’s a tactic to get away from all the soaping.
It’s difficult to wash a donkey made out of jelly!
I keep hitching him up and he keeps melting.
Soap suds are going everywhere.
Bark chip is stuck to everything and everyone and now big hunks of fur are coming off in my hands.
I’m up to my armpits in sudsy hair.
I feel like a soaped up Sasquach.
Ok enough, now rinse!
Hairy soap suds come flying off.
I’m sopping wet and covered in fur.
Dog starts spinning circles around my son again, yowling now.
I nearly trip and fall over the tangle of hose and lead, human legs and dog legs…
I’m trying SO hard not to swear….but I’m thinking swear words LOUDLY in my head.
Then Turtle begins to shake, and if he hasn’t already covered the entire back yard and us in shed wet clumps of hair, well, now he does.
Lead is untangled.
Dog runs away to shake even more hair all over the back veranda.
Son runs away too.
“WAIT! We have to bath Taya now!” I yell.
Stuff it , I fill a large crate full of water and dump her in while Turtle flounces around doing the happy “I just escaped hell and survived!” dance.
When we’re done my son says something that makes me exclaim –
“Have you lost your freaking mind????”
“We should wash the cat.”
(Now I KNOW he has brain damage.)
So anyway…everythings cool. (we did NOT wash the cat. I would not be HERE… typing this… if we’d washed the cat.)
Tomorrow I’ll wake up and smell the apples.
Life will be good.
Next time I’m calling the hydrobath people.