You've heard of Camelot? Well, that's not where I live. No. I live in Bathalot, because that's what it feels like. And, there's no Sir Lancelot to help save me; just Ms Joan Sure Shampoos-alot. No Merlin's magic, just this girl dog in the tub, and I don't get it.
Every time I get just the right amount of smelly, I get another bath. A lot. And, even though it feels good once I'm all dried and fluffed out, it's little comfort during that first moment when I see Joan getting out the dog shampoo and dry towels.
Anticipation can be a real problem.
Joan always says, “This is going to hurt me more than it's going to hurt you.” But, Joan's thinking of her back, and I'm thinking of my dignity. Which would you rather hurt? Not that I actually get hurt. It's all just so disturbing and worrisome.
However, now that I've complained, I have to admit that the results are more than appealing.
Now, Shane escaped getting a bath again today. He gets one bath for every three of mine. Shane with that slippery seal fur never gets dirty. I don't get it. Why me? And don't say why not me, because then I have to ask, “Why not you?
Oh, wait. Humans are always taking baths. Okay, forget it.
The good thing about getting a bath is that I know I won't get another one for maybe three weeks or more, depending on weather conditions and how much dirt I absorb in the coming days. It's certain that I'm home free for the next few weeks, and that's a huge relief. At last, I've found a silver lining in a once-dark cloud. I knew it was there. I just had to sniff it out.
Best wishes, Juno
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