Mud Bath

When Mom and I went to visit our neighbor tonight, I did something that any good, honorable dog would do. I rolled in the grass. I rolled like crazy. I rolled and rolled and rolled!

OK, maybe there was some pee mail that I was rolling in, too. (Lots of it, actually!)

And it was a little muddy since it rained a bit today. I ended up bringing home some of that mud on my back and down my neck. Even had some mud on my chin.

Oops.

(Mom says the pictures don't do justice to the amount of mud I was wearing.)

Unfortunately, I discovered that Mom is not a fan of doggies covered in mud. I watched in horror as she got stuff ready to give me. . .a. . .BATH.

So, again, I did what any good, honorable dog would do.  I went to hide in my Princess Tent.

Unfortunately, Mom found me, picked me up out of the tent, and took me to the room of torture...the bathroom.

Of course I tried to make a break for it and jump out of the tub, like any good, honorable dog would do. Mom thwarted my efforts, even with the camera in her hand.  Hrmph.

Finally, though, the bath torture was over and Mom broke out the orange hairdryer of doom. Not even the squeaky toy could comfort me.

Our air conditioner is broke, though, so it got super hot in the bathroom.  Mom gave up trying to get me dry.  (SCORE!)  As soon as Mom started to open the gate, that dog toy and I were outta there! I was so fast, Mom only caught a paw in her picture.

Baths are exhausting.

And I miss my stinky mud.