“Washing the dog…. Just washing the dog….”
Molly is going through her awkward time of the year, where the weather is prime for digging up critters who hide under the grass in the yard and where she has needed the warmth of her fuzzy fur. Next week, instead of “Fuzzy Molly” we’ll have “Sleek Molly” who will have been sheared like a sheep. When she is sleek, she is much easier to keep clean, plus it’s very easy to grab any fleas and ticks who try to come into the house riding on her back.
She was SO awful, though, that I couldn’t stand it any longer. I put her in the sink and scrubbed her all over with tearless puppy shampoo (even though she’s 14 years old now.) I always use puppy shampoo because I hate the idea of it stinging if the soap happens to get near her eyes.
She is thoroughly teed off with me now – first because I lessened her dignity by putting her in the sink and scrubbing her, and second, because even after three bath towels and my hair dryer, she’s still wet enough that I don’t want to take her out so she can roll in the grass.
She finally realized that she’s lost this round, so breathed a huge, dramatic sigh and is now trying to sleep in her bed.
Now we both have dog hair all over us, but we she looks better and we both definitely smell better.
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