Asshats, canine style…

My dogs are asshats.

The End…..

 

 

Oh. You require clarification??

Fine.

Because regular grooming is good for their overall health, and because since retiring I’m too cheap to take them to the groomer, and because they smelled like….well, BUTT,   I bathed the little brats myself today. TWICE.

Twice you ask??? Because I’m uber thorough?? Because I was bored???

No. Because after bathing them both I thought to myself “Self, (cuz that’s my name) it’s a pretty morning, you should let them air dry outside for a minute while you clean up all the areas of the house that got bathed along with the dogs”….So I did. And 10 minutes later when I started outside to commence the overwhelming, back breaking, itchy, unpleasant task of blow drying and brushing out the Golden I saw this awaiting me at the screen door:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HEIFER WAS SQUEAKY CLEAN 10 MINUTES AGO.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s another shot in case the screen was obscuring the absolute awesomeness of her spa mud treatment…

The Golden apparently used his front paws to roll his sister around in the dirt as he was only mud encrusted on his front legs which I did not deem worthy of a picture in my totally pissed off state.

Ever bath a Golden Retriever??? They have A LOT of hair, and it’s water repellent. Takes somewhere around 57,268,201 (give or take)  gallons of water to saturate the hair on a Golden, 15 gallons of soap to clean all the gunk that collects in those long flowing tresses, another kajillion and two gallons to thoroughly rinse the soap out (cuz the little Bastard has sensitive skin and will be all itchy if not rinsed properly. It’s bullshit) and 62 bath towels to dry him before he shakes 892 gallons of water all over you and your bathroom. Lather, rinse, repeat…..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Does this face look at all chagrined?? I don’t think so….

A half hour (that I’ll never get back) later, he was once again clean. I tied his leash to the leg of my deck chair and commenced blow drying. He is not a fan of this process, hence the tying of the leash. Another half hour (that Ill never get back either) he was 75% dry and somewhere around 40 pounds of hair lighter, most of which found it’s way up my nose….

I then chased the Pug (she hates baths, hence the running away from me. She knew what she had done) around the yard until I had her trapped in a corner, grasped her firmly and proceeded to the kitchen sink.

Bitch gave me attitude…

I persevered.

I scrubbed. I rinsed. I scrubbed some more. I rinsed again. I towel dried her squirmy vehemently protesting little body vigorously…She had it coming. I took her outside, held her down on my lap and blow dried. Annnnnnnd blow dried.

I’m exhausted, they’re pissed at me and I’m not speaking to them.

It’s a beautiful friggin’ day in the effin’ neighborhood.

🙂

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