He spent the day in the backyard playing Squirrel Assassin and proving that even old dogs get the zoomies.
When he came in, he was an olfactory offense against nature. He definitely smelled like he was past his sell-by date.
Time for a…[shudder]…bath. But where?
Earlier, I had cleaned the hot tub and it was already warming nicely. Nah, even in hedonistic Southern California, dogs don’t go in the hot tub. At least, not this Malt.
Maybe the kitchen sink? It’s nice and deep and well-sized for dunking a doggo.
Perhaps not. The Alpha Japanese Female is protective of her territory which includes everything in the house including the kitchen sink. (He he he…see what I did there?)
As it occurred, there is a small guest bath that had just been spiffed up and it was the perfect solution for a dirty Maltese.
Of course, that meant I would have to join him. Scrub buddies!
First, we suds up. It’s a two-step process starting with a medicinal shampoo and followed by his regular soap-free bathing solution that is scented with Japanese cherry blossoms. Really. Don’t judge me.
Then comes the rinse and conditioner. Fragrance-free and hypoallergenic don’tcha know.
Here’s what irks: the dog has a half dozen bottles of hair products. The AJF’s inventory looks like a Paul Mitchell warehouse.
Me? I have one bottle of Old Spice that says: “Body-Hair-Skin Wash.” I suspect it can also be used for de-glazing cooking pans, replacing brake fluid and cleaning the patio.
Oh, I should also mention (since I have a death wish) that the AJF enjoys what the designers call a “personal garden tub.” It’s huge. Neither Max nor I are allowed into that tub.
After the bath comes a thorough drying using his personal towels, ear cleaning and then he gets released to run around the house like a deranged, rabid animal, throwing himself with abandon on every soft surface until the last trace of moisture evaporates.
After all that, we are still not done. The little white dog needs to be brushed so that his fine hair doesn’t become matted. You don’t want to try and work the mats out of a Maltese’s coat. Or even out of his gym shorts. Snorf.
At least the brushing can be done while watching college football and quaffing a delightful barley, hops and malt-based adult beverage.
Finally, the deed is done; the mission is accomplished. The Furnugget is fragrant, clean and fluffed. He’s exhausted. I’m exhausted.
Time for a well-deserved Milk Bone reward!
Total time expended? 25 minutes. Number of scratches on my legs? 4 but only 2 drew blood. Cost of materials? I don’t want to think about it.
Having a clean Malt? Priceless.
Categories: The Dog From Rancho Cucaracha