I gave the dog a bath today. Yes, I'm blogging about bathing the dog. (This is my life, people. I heart it.)
I love my dogs. What I do not love is dirty, stinky, flea bags. Which is why my dogs had been banished to spend the days OUTSIDE.
Socks is getting old. So I figured the warm water would feel good on his joints. He does seem to be in great health and doesn't complain about his joints but whatever. I attribute that to his dang expensive dog food. I don't want to send him to the groomer because he his old and sometimes a little cranky. And quite frankly, I'm cheap. (Having our other dog, the standard poodle, Nera, groomed nearly sends me over the edge. Cha Ching. But we have tried taking that task on ourselves to no avail. Just tell me how much it costs. And DON'T put bows in her hair.)
Back to Socks. Bath. He enjoys it, but not for as long as it takes as I am obsessive about washing and rinsing, washing and rinsing, washing and rinsing. Poor little trooper. But he is squeaky clean now! And I surely did threaten him when he went outside. "Don't be rolling around in the dirt, or else you are back outside, mister. And don't be bragging either because I am not in the mood to bathe Ding Dong." (That's Nera's nickname. We refuse to feel guilty over it.)
The dog loves cheese. So he gets his favorite treat after his bath.
Begging for more.
The dog is still scratching...and sneezing. Ugh.