Shower Buddies in QUOTIDIEN

This is the scenario. I bring in towels from the laundry to protect my floor and use to dry off Beth. I mix her shampoo with conditioner and a little Ivory......set it up in shower. I bring Beth into the bathroom which, for her, is the greatest of treats.

I get in first and rinse out the henna that now sits in my hair like a sun-baked mud-hut. I leave the shower door open a bit, and contentedly, she sits and pokes her nose in, tail thumping on the floor.

After about 6 hours of rinsing and rinsing and rinsing, I invite Beth to join me.

'Gee, thanks Mom, but I think I'll just sit here. It's all good.'

So there I squat, naked as the day I was born, black, muddy hair dripping henna fumes into my eyes, begging my 90 lb dog to pleasepleaseplease come take a shower with mommy.

Now Beth KNOWS something unholy is up and she starts to back away. Like a snake going in for the kill, my arm snaps forward and my hand takes hold of a fistful of scruff. With all fours ahead of her shoulders, I drag her furry ass over the lip of the shower, and she's in.

We leave the shower after frantic wetting, soaping, scrubbing and rinsing - long enough I'm convinced the EPA is sending out a team as I type these very words.

What is left behind in the shower is enough to build a German Shepherd from the ground up. Better. Stronger. Faster.

I was wrong in assuming that the mess would be a lesser one if I showered her rather than bathe her. Once Beth was safely back in her crate, I went back to surveil a scene deserving of a healthy length of yellow tape.

The heap of soggy towels still litter the floor, and a fine coating of brown and tan fur from violent nose-to-tail body shakes awaits my attention.

And to think that at the beginning, I figured this would be so quick and easy I would do this 'at least once a month'.