Bath Time

I was washing the dogs the other day when I was reminded of the momentous occasion that was Peanut's first bath. I had gathered her up along with her brothers and sisters and brought them up to the bathroom for their introduction to the horrors that the porcelain tub contained. They were all too jovial and cocksure, running around with their little happy faces. It was time to bring them down a peg or two, show them the harsh and cruel reality of the world they'd been flung into. It was bath time.  

I filled the bath up to just below their tummies and plopped them all in, one by one, until it was Peanut's turn. I thought I'd put her in last because she was the most likely to let go of her mind and allow herself to silently slip under the water. However, as soon as I put her in she started to immediately drink the bath water. Now if you've read my last post you'll already know Peanut's love for all things aqua, but even I didn't think she would find the soup of her sibling's dirty bum zones appealing. I was wrong. She loved it. She wouldn't stop lapping it up. I started to get a bit concerned, because these puppies really stank and she was slurping up their congealing essence like there was no tomorrow. Just as I was about to scoop her out she began puking puppy stink everywhere. This was the most counter-productive bath time ever as the pups were now dirtier than they had been before they went in. 

It was from then that we had to bathe Peanut separately in the sink, dunking her in and out like a hairy grey biscuit to stop her exploding again.