Yet Another Bath

Mom did it again. Yep. Yet another bath. Hrmph.

Tomorrow (Sept. 18) is my birthday. I'm gonna be 14 years old. You would THINK that Mom would cut me some slack with the medicated baths, especially since this is a special week...

Nope. No such luck.

Trust me when I say that I did not go into the tub willingly.

At least Mom refilled the toy box in the bathroom. That provided some distraction during blow-drying. (See Mom's orange hair dryer?)

Had to go back to the toy box to liberate another toy.

More plucking.

After Mom opened the gate and let me out of the bathroom, I'm happy to report that I successfully saved all three of those squeakies from the bathroom.

And that's why Mom has to refill the toy box in the bathroom. I try to save all of the toys from horrible baths.
   

Ongoing Battles

One morning late last week, Mom put her clean work shirt on the bed and went off to brush her teeth. I couldn't pass that up that wonderful opportunity.

White dog + clean black shirt = pure ornery brilliance.

Unfortunately, Mom retaliated with this...

Yes, my friends, she made me take another bath. She claimed that I had poo on my hiney and that I needed that medicated shampoo for my scabby allergy spots. Personally, however, I feel this was purely an act of vengeance on her part.

Call PETA. Baths are inhumane.

   

Let Me Stink

I was minding my own business, snoozing in the middle of Mom's bed...

...when all of sudden, THIS happened:

Oh, the horror.

Mom said when I went to the vet after my seizure a week ago, I was so stinky that the vet musta thought I was a homeless dog. I have to go back to the vet tomorrow to have some broken teeth taken out, so Mom was determined that I was going to smell like lavender stuff instead of stinky dog butt.

Hrmph.

I think we should have consulted the vet BEFORE the bath to see if that really mattered.

After all, maybe the vet prefers stinky dogs...

Mud Magnet

The weather warmed up a bit, and most of the nasty snow is melting. You know what that means?  Mud!

And I'm an expert in finding it.

Hrm...where's some more mud?

Found some!

Now the only downside to my mud magnet ability is the fact that I have little white paws. Well, maybe I should say that I HAD little white paws before the mud...

Mom put me directly into the bath tub after our walk this morning.

Not cool.

Plotting my escape.

Such torture.

Lucky for me, Mom's sick and didn't feel like bending over the tub. So, I only got a foot bath and not an entire body bath. Much less torturous that way.

But I still had to take a nap to recover.

 
And I was dreaming of all that mud, of course!
 

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.
 

I've Been Groomed

You saw my hairy pic from the other day...

Unfortunately, Mom decided I needed to see out, so she took me to the groomer.  I really don't like the groomer because she always gives me a BATH.  I hate baths!!!

I gave the groomer some dirty looks while she was working on my furs.  And you know what she did?!  The groomer TATTLED on me!!!  She sent Mom a picture of me mid-groom and told Mom I was giving her "I hate you" looks!  The nerve...

She finally finished my hair cut and then Mom came to pick me up. I got a "talking to" because of the dirty looks.

Then we headed to our house.  Ta Dah!  Here's me with my new 'do in the car, begging Mom to open the door so we can go inside our house.

I still can't believe the groomer tattled on me like that...

   

Grooming Torture

I was all snuggled up on the couch this morning while Mom was getting ready for work. This is my usual spot.  I snooze there most days while Mom's earning money to buy me more toys.

Unfortunately, however, Mom interrupted my slumber today.  And then to my horror, she took me to THE GROOMER when she left for work.

Seriously.

Sure, the groomer is nice and all, but I DON'T LIKE BATHS!!!

Mom left me at the doggie spa all morning, and then she picked me up.  We went back home and I got back in my spot on the couch.

I stuck my tongue out to let Mom know just what I thought of her doggie torture.

Then I told her she'd better give me cookies.  Quick.

Seriously.  Give me cookies.

I'm snoozing this evening.  The groomer really disrupted my daily napping schedule.

  

    

Surgery on Monday

On Monday I'm going to the vet for some surgery.  Could you think good thoughts and say a few prayers for me, please?

I'm gonna get my teeth cleaned so my breath doesn't stink so much.  (That's Mom's opinion, of course, I think it smells just fine!)  While I'm under the anesthesia, the vet is also gonna remove a big lump from my hiney.  We think it's a cyst, but it's getting bigger and bigger, so it's gotta come off.  

It's about the size of a clementine. Takes up over half of my back down by my rear. You can usually only see it when my tail's down 'cause my tail floof covers up the lump.

I've got a cute little fat roll down by my tail, and the vet says that's actually good.  Because the cyst is so big, they're gonna need my extra fat roll to cover the area they remove.  The vet says I'm gonna get a butt lift. 

Mom's worried 'bout the size of the incision because she knows it's gonna be ouchy for me. She's the Mom, though, and it's her job to do the worrying.

You can kind of see the lump in this last picture. I'm mainly including it, however, because Mom made me take a bath last night.  I did this tonight. See all of that mud I'm standing in?!  I really paid her back for that bath!

I guess the good thing about the surgery is that I'll get out of baths for a while, too.  Woo hoo!
 

Baths Have Resumed

Mom was sick for about a week. Sure, her coughing kept me up at night, but overall her being sick really worked to my advantage.  Let's face it, it's nice having Mom home during the day to nap with me.

And because Mom had a bad cold, she couldn't bend over the bathtub.  Bending made her head hurt worse.  So, my friends, that also meant NO medicated baths for me the entire time Mom was sick!  Woo hooooo!!!

Unfortunately, however, my bath reprieve ended tonight.  That's right...Mom resumed the torture once again.

As soon as she let me out of the bathroom, I took my still-partially-wet body straight to her bed.  I like to get that "wet dog" smell on her blankets.

She offered me kibbles as a peace offering.

I refused to even look at the kibbles.  Or at her.

Stupid medicated baths.

New Instrument of Torture

The unthinkable happened.

It's really, really bad.

Seriously NOT GOOD.

Mom got us THIS thing:

That's right, my friends.  It's a new instrument of bath torture.  She got a hand-held shower thingy.  The woman is unstoppable now with the stupid baths!!!

Of course my bath began with ear cleaning torture in the bathroom sink.

I always plot my escape during those moments.

After the ear torture, I gave Mom one of my pathetic looks in an attempt to distract her from...the bath...

It didn't work.  She was too excited about the stupid shower thing.  She put me in the tub of torture and just went to work.

These pics are all a little blurry because I was moving around, trying to avoid the horrific shower thingy.

Of course I tried to jump out of the tub, too.

After the bath, I stared longingly at the freedom of the hallway.

Then the blow drying began.  It seriously never ends with my Mom...

Stupid medicated baths.

They're torture.  Seriously torture.