When Good Dogs Go Bad

So, I think my Chihuahua tried to kill me last night…

I put the bath mat on the floor before I went in the shower.  Climbing out, I took a huge step, expecting some traction from the mat.

Instead my wet foot slid across the bare slippery floor, and this girl who never advanced beyond a beginner level yoga class came close to doing the splits.

Confused about the missing bath mat, and slightly shaken by my near fall, I heard a snort in the bedroom.

I discovered the missing bath mat.

You can’t see it in the photo, but my little bath mat thief is grinning…in a threatening manner.

I knew I shouldn’t have told her she’s in my will.

Haute Dog!

I haven’t had a bath in over two months!

Sadly, the cottage is far from perfect.  No laundry, no bath tub…no joy!

Every night I squish my grimy body into my coffin-sized shower stall and perform a series of contortions in an attempt to come out cleaner than I went in.

I miss bathing so much that the idea of languishing in a tub of warm water, wine glass in one hand, novel in the other is never far from my thoughts.

I’d almost given up on my squeaky clean dreams when I found the answer–public dog baths!

For $10, one can enjoy a hot soapy interlude at the pet supply shop.  Granted, it may not be as private as I’d like, but it’s a bath!!!

If staff try to tell me this opportunity is only for dogs, I’ll have one thing to say:  woof!

Friends, if I play my cards right, the word of the day might just be splash.