I'm on the back porch. Trying to look casual. Turning on the water, pretending to water my plants. My mom quietly brings out two ratty towels wrapped around a bottle, and hands them to me as if dropping off a covert package between spies.
Damn.
He saw the shampoo bottle.
This means that now I have to come in off the back porch and chase Dog, who was previously whining to come on the back porch with me, all over the house. He knows. Shampoo bottle = bath. And despite his breed being a WATER DOG, he loathes a bath. Absolutely hates it with a passion.
So I chased him around the house, eventually cornering him in a bedroom upstairs. Then I have to drrrrrag him down the stairs and out the door, with the DRAGGING becoming harder and harder the closer we get to the back door. Hosed him down, lathered him up, with him getting lower and lower to the ground the whole time. And just when he hits maximum suds + water?
SHHHHHHHAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKKE!
Which of course soaks me entirely. He looks at me as if to say "see?!". Finish washing, rinsing (with several more shakes in there) and dry him off with the aforementioned ratty towels.
Now, the poodle part kicks in.
Its dark, so I can't just set him in the sunshine to dry. I call him and he follows me up the stairs into the bathroom, and he sits down expectantly. He knows what comes next. The hair dryer. Ahhhhhhh. He hearts the hair dryer. Seriously. He loves the hair dryer! I dry him, with him turning his head up, down, side to side, and then? He lifts his paw. Seriously. "Please dry me under here too, thank you my servant owner".
Good grief.
