Afraid of the bath. Or the water. Or just doesn't like the process. Or all of the above. And once she's in the tub, it's not so much a chore to keep her there, but to get her in a position where the water won't end up all over the floor with suds of flea and tick preventative shampoo making everything smell like wet dog.
I have to get my half laying down dog off the floor and put her in the tub. Coda weighs 86 pounds. Granted, no woman likes her weight to be displayed, but I doubt Coda will ever read this.
86 lbs. And as she creeps towards the edge of the tub in order to evade the oncoming stream of water from the removable showerhead (whoever invented that was a genius) I end up using my entire body's weight to realign her so she can be thoroughly washed and rinsed while causing the least spillover onto the floor.
And then she's done! The bath really isn't that long of a process, it's just, well, a process. I'm so glad when it's over though. She smells clean. She feels soft. Her hair kind of frizzes up in a couple of places to where that section looks like a crewcut on a dog. And the whites of her paws are WHITE. It's like bleaching an old white undershirt and realizing just how dirty it was.
Until next time. When maybe she won't weigh 86 lbs. and I won't feel like I'm throwing out my back getting her into the tub.
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