So yesterday it was time for Wacko to get washed. When he saw me coming downstairs calling him while holding a towel, he started sidling into the kitchen and tried to bolt for the basement. I grabbed his collar and he let out one of those great Wacko sighs and slowly followed me upstairs.
In the bathroom, he tried again to make a break for the door, but I eventually herded him into the shower, where, with good Wacko grace, he put up with me washing him down. Afterwards, I left him in the bathroom for a good 20 minutes so he could shake a lot of the water out. Finally, I let him out of the bathroom and he rather pitifully and dramatically made a slow, pained walk down the stairs.
At which point, I got occupied with other things.
Then at bedtime, Brenna called him for his late night walk. I went back upstairs into our bedroom and beheld quite a curious sight.
Evidently after his bath, he jumped up on our bed and pulled the comforter back. Not the whole thing, mind you, but just my side. Then he must have laid down on the exposed sheet and pillow and taken a comfy nap while he dried off. My side of the bed was wet and smelled like dog. Brenna's side was immaculate.
This was no coincidence. Brenna's giving him his bath next time.
(No Country for Old Men Update: #206)
2 comments:
And they say that dogs don't have emotions. -p
see, even Wacko agrees:
you are OUT of the will.
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