Yesterday I took the dog for his afternoon walk. I was somewhat in a rush as I had two meetings to attend back to back last night and time was of the essence. A few metres from the park we met a woman with two little skye terriers. Koda was beyond delighted with his new friends and promptly dashed off with them running hot on his heels to show them the mud ditch. As he landed I started screeching so he barrelled out of there, shamefaced but joyous. Our new friends who were a significant bit smaller were more immersed or submerged if you will and their owner stalked off unimpressed (probably never to be our friend again) to find a pool to wash them in. My Koda only had it up to his knees (if you know what I mean) so I felt like I was winning to some degree.
I also figured that on the walk home some of the dirt would rub off and would be less noticeable particularly as The Artist gets upset by this stuff and says I don’t know how to control the dog. [I can totally control the dog by the way when I want to and when I catch him before the devil takes over his mind and body]. So quickly I huffed and puffed up the hill in the 29 degree heat and arrived home with Koda who still had his “black socks” on so to speak. I had just ten minutes before I technically had to leave the house to get to my meeting on time unless I was planning on breaking the land speed record that day.
Koda would not come to the hose. Problem. Flatly refused. And time was now of the essence. So what to do – if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed and all.
Strategy Lauren, I willed myself. Strategy. And all of a sudden it became so clear.
I got a plastic jug and the dog shampoo. Filled it with water from a bucket that I placed on the side. Sweating like a beast I individually dipped each leg in the jug, shampooed it and then rinsed it by dipping it in individually again.
Once he had been towelled off, I went to lie down on my bed in my underwear to try and cool down with the aircon blasting because there was no time to shower. At least one of us was now clean. The other was still sweating like a mofo. A strategic and clever mofo I might just add.
And a few hours later I returned home to see the little bastard’s legs and paws gleaming at me. Gleaming like four beacons in the night.
Love and light