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.
 

Vet Appointment

Yesterday I was tortured with a trip to the groomer.

This morning I was tortured with a trip to the vet.

Seriously.

Mom's just outta control these days.  Even IF the vet appointment was to help my ouchy-itchy ear, did we really have to go TODAY after the groomer was just YESTERDAY?  That's two days of torture right in a row!

I was not amused.

It's a little blurry, but you can see my look of disapproval when we arrived at the vet's office.

I refused to look at Mom while we waited.

She needed to learn that this was NOT acceptable.

My ear's infected with both yeast and bacterias.  So, the vet gave Mom some more ointment to use.  I really don't approve of the ointment, either, but I suppose it's going to make me all better soon.

It's been a rough couple of days, so I put myself to bed early tonight.

It would sure be easier to sleep if Mom would put the camera away...

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.

New Haircut from Mom

Mom had that crazy look in her eye last night, and I saw her walking around with scissors.  That's definitely not a good sign.  Mom is NOT a licensed doggie beautician.

I tried to hide (of course), but she caught me and put me into the sink of torture...

I tried to plot my escape, with no luck.

Mom was too quick for me.  She held my chin with one hand and went to town with the scissors in the other hand.  I did my best to look super duper pathetic.

Behold, some of the carnage from my forehead, nose, and chin furs, displayed next to Mom's scissors of torture:

Mom's finished product:

Although I hated having my furs trimmed, I do have to give Mom some credit for at least doing a half-way presentable job this time.  It was HORRIBLE the last time she took it upon herself to trim me. That was so embarrassing.

And at least I can finally see again...and I didn't have to go to the groomer's for an entire afternoon...

The Bathroom Sink

To most people, it's called a "bathroom sink."  To me, it's a "den of torture."  I HATE getting stuck in that sink!  Mom puts me up there when she thinks she needs to clean my ears and my eye goobers and get rid of my mats in my tail and the occasional dingleberries near my hiney.

See the elements of torture there beside me?  You know, I'm rather attached to those mats in my ear furs and my tail.  No need to brush or comb them out!  And I don't care if I have an infection, you can just keep that ear ointment to yourself.  And that ear cleaner, too!  (That blue M&M guy is full of Q-tips and cotton cleaner things.  YUCK!)

It's just not humane, I'm telling you.

The entire time I'm stuck there, I contemplate how to escape.  Hrm...is that really too far to jump down???

One of these days, I'm gonna jump...

I Was Weed-Whackered!

Last night I was ambushed with a bath. Tonight Mom decided that my bangs were too long. WHEN will this torture end?!

She put me in the bathroom sink because that's where she thinks she can "contain" me.

But I kept planning my escape the whole time, so I think she finally learned that the sink ain't the spot she thinks it is.

OK. So maybe my bangs were a little long. It was getting a bit hard to see.

But between Mom's lack of experience and me fidgeting up a storm, the results were NOT good. My bangs look like they've been attacked by a weed whacker!

Just as soon as I got out of that sink, THIS is all Mom saw of me...

Here's a close-up of the damages. Some pieces are still too long, and there's a super short spot right in the middle.

It isn't pretty. But I guess at least I can sort of see now. Mom says it's a good thing that I don't have a mirror in my princess tent, 'cause maybe I'll just forget that my bangs were whacked.

Forget this experience? Never. Instead, I'm adding another layer of fun to my plans for revenge. I'm thinking of super loud squeakies now -- AND my animal sounds Babble Ball -- at 3:30 a.m. under Mom's bed...

That'll teach her.

Ambushed!

Let me ask you something. Does this look like a doggie who deserves to be harassed?

What about this? Does THIS look like a doggie who needs to be tormented and tortured?

Unfortunately, that is exactly what happened tonight, my friends. I was napping, minding my own business, and then suddenly AMBUSHED by this...

Yes, I had to take a bath.

After weeks of reprieve, I thought I had won the War of the Bathtub. Mom hadn't subjected me to a bath for a long, long time. Apparently, however, I was wrong. She just lulled me into a sense of complacency and then WHAM...bath torture.

Looking pathetic and cute has no effect on Mom when she's in bath mode. My charms are powerless.

The woman was on a serious "get Buttons clean" mission, too. I prefer to be stinky. And dirty. I am a dog, you know.

And you can see just how upset I am by looking at my tail in this picture. Is it up and curly and wagging? Noooo. I am not a happy pup.

Since all of my attempts to escape the bath seemed to have no impact on Mom, I finally just stuck my tongue out at her. Take THAT!

Of course the normal blow dryer torture ensued after the bath. You'll notice that I sat RIGHT BY the bathroom door, awaiting my escape.

When Mom finally let me out of the bathroom, I went a little crazy. Then I hid under the blanket on the couch. I didn't want to end up back in that bathroom.

When I realized that I was safe, however, I decided to dry myself off the rest of the way by rolling on the carpet.

Then I took out some of my frustrations on a penguin toy.

In my opinion, tonight's ambush bath was entirely uncalled for. Just ridiculous. I was stinky for weeks, so why the torture tonight?!

I WILL get back at Mom for this. I'm working on a plan right now. I can't divulge all of the details, but I can tell you that it involves squeaky toys under Mom's bed at 3:30 a.m....