Contrary to common sense and amongst other vigorous protests from my aching back and joints, I bathe Rascal and Nellie myself. The blow dry portion of the grooming session is achieved by walking them on our bright sunny afternoon. Long suffering partner takes Rascal while I wrangle Nellie's bath; I take Nellie after I have changed into dry clothes and will not scandalize the neighborhood. (Yes, I get as wet as they do).
On bath day, we also do a full laundry of all dog bedding, towels, and other doggie equipment like leashes, harnesses, collars and the like. We have a couch, which, before my entirely ill conceived lapse in judgment allowing dogs to sleep on it, was a lovely addition to the living room. It is an ivory raw silk couch which must be protected from the grime of two dogs determined to bring in the outside every time they go for walks or sojourns in the backyard. As a a result, we now have four layers of protection against the normal dirt and any potential accidents that may occur. That said, washing everything is a major event and it is nice to keep it clean until AFTER their baths. In order to achieve that protection, I move chairs and the coffee table around it and smugly walk away secure in the knowledge I have outsmarted the pups.
Yeah...that was my mistake. After the laundry (done while Rascal was out on his morning trek) I reassembled all the protective layers onto the couch. Then the cleverly created a fortress against doggie incursions in place, I went about other chores that required attention, only to come back to this:
I can accept defeat, but the smug look on his face? That's just mean.
Where there is a will, there is a way. And the look says it all.
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