Bathing beauty

Last weekend B and I decided it was time to give Joe a bath. Except that last time had not gone so well, Joe’s feet kept sliding on the curved side of the tub and he freaked. He struggled, he caterwauled, he dugs his claws into our thighs trying to get out. I’ve never had a dog that liked getting washed; although I had a friend whose Malamute, Bondi, absolutely adored it.

We decided to try the shower instead – it’s big enough for 2 people and a puppy. The door closes securely allowing one person to wash and one to rinse. This is vastly preferable to the WWF tag team moves we had to use to keep him in the tub.

We let the shower get nice and steamy, filled a watering can with warm water, then stepped in together and called to Joe in our friendliest, happiest tone of voice. He trotted in, stood under the stream of steamy water and grinned showing all of his new little front teeth. Soaping and rinsing went easily. The only sticky point was getting him toweled off but once it was turned into a game of ‘Uhh-oh, oh no, towel over my head – Bite, Bite, Bite’ that too went swimmingly.

This morning, days after Joe’s shower adventure he wandered over just as I was about to shower. I opened the shower door. He shot in so quickly I didn’t even see it. I looked down to see him standing proudly and happily under the warm water. I laughed but while I’m happy bathing him, I don’t want to bathe with him. So out he went.

And he pressed his black nose to the glass shower door, making little chuffs of steam as he sung an aria of discontent. So I guess keeping him clean won’t be an ordeal, but keeping him out of the shower as he gets bigger, faster and stronger may be.