a tale of two bathtimes

No doxie we have ever had really loved bath time. It's just not their thing, really. As Padua grew older and as his genetic deficiencies took hold, bathtime became a weekly requirement, complete with medicated shampoo that had to sit on his bony body for at least five minutes. Five long, shivering minutes. That's when George really entered this household, to blow gentle heat on our little old man and restore a modicum of dignity to Padua's time in the tub.

After sufficient time had passed and Padua was given a final rinsedown, dad would swaddle him up like a Russian newborn baby, and together they would sit til both were fast asleep. A quiet end to bath time, and a memory we still cherish.

Little chumley, on the other hand, has a different take on what his after bath time experience should be. Ready to remove all evidence of what just happened, he barely lets the towel touch him before he is off like a rocket, runnning the hallways time and again until finally he catches whiff of the perfect spot to start his roll n restink process.

Once satisfied he can live with his new smelly self, Baxter drains the last bit of bathtime energy he has acquired with either an invitation to chase, or a barking session by the bedroom window. As if to let the world know that despite this setback, he is still mighty ruler of his domain. Watch out squirrels, I may be clean, but I will still hunt you down.