This afternoon, to Indy's complete dismay, he had a bath. Once I start getting complaints from the family about his too-pungent scent, we simply can't put off the process any longer.
Unfortunately, that boy is too smart for his own good. He knows what's up the minute I head for the bathroom with plastic cup and his special shampoo. Then it becomes a merry game of catch-me-if-you can before I'm able to finally grab his collar and hoist him into the shower.
To make things easier, I shed my clothes and go into the enclosure with him. It might sound weird, but it really works out well. That way every time Indy decides to shake off excess water or shampoo (which tends to be about 12 times per minute) it doesn't matter at all.
The agony is in the soap and water, but the ecstasy begins as soon as he's toweled dry. Then it's zoomies around the room, rolling on the carpet, snorting, snuffling, and a general demonstration of doggie delight.
Indy insists that sofas make superior bath towels.
Once he finally feels every stray droplet of water has been removed, it's time to stand for inspection, fur prickled up like a procupine.
With approval, comes relief.
Indy: "Glad that's done. I won't need another bath for a loooong time, will I Mom?"
Me: "That's right, Indy. You just keep on telling yourself that."
Tell me, is this what bath time is like at your house? Do you have critters who are bath time aficionados, or are they more like don't-get-me-wet-I-might-melt scardey cats?
"Scardey cat-schmardey cat. I take a bath every day. And Mom doesn't do it for me, either. She gets way too many hairballs."