After a Bath

It doesn't matter if it's summer or winter, they always have an extra pep in their step after a bath.

Bath Day

According to Sonya

It's degrading, humiliating, and downright rude!

I mean, what am I a car, that you just spray my belly on full blast like it's the undercarriage?

And then scrub me with all disregard and impropriety to my ladyhood...

To top it all off, you so rudely spray me in the face with complete abandon! Even labs don't like water in their faces like that!

The least you can do is wash my bum so I don't have to.

According to Preacher

Yeah, yeah, right there, scrub my ear...

Oooooh, get my belly, scrub harder!

Aaaaaah, that's the spot!

Watch the toes, I'm ticklish!

In the End

They're so happy to get last week's grime off their coats, if they could do a back-flip to show their elation they would.

Queen Sonya

By her AKC name, Sonya is royalty. Queen, in fact. Her highness has the attitude to boot. She won't settle for a spot on the floor, or even on her own bed. She has to have her "high chair".

If she could speak human, she'd probably be telling me how to do my work as well.

She pretty much runs the household when we - her humans - are not home. (Sorry, Preacher.)


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Vices

It's been a while since Sonya and I have gone out. So when we took a drive this weekend, you bet she stuck half her body out the window of the car, taking in every ounce of scent, and barked at anything furry that we passed at 25mph. Until we parked at the beach (a rainstorm was rolling through, so we stayed in the dry warmth of the car), and I proceeded to dive into my ice cream from Baskin Robbins.

Then she looked at me.

Intensely, without taking her eyes off me for even a second.

A prowler could cup their hands against the rolled up window, and she wouldn't care.

Because at this moment, her salivary response and food instinct far outweighed her in-bred protection mode.

Is that...?

I definitely smell coconut... and walnuts...

[Drool.]

Aaaaaaaah, vanilla ice cream... my other most favorite flavor... 

Can I have a bite?

Pleeeeeease?
  

You have to NOT have a heart if you can resist soft lips and a wet nose gently sniffing, hoping, begging for a taste. And of course I gave her the very last bite, which was a sacrifice for me because the butt of the cake cone, all soggy and infused with the last bit of double Nutty Coconut goodness is my mostest favoritest part of my ice cream vice.

And we both licked our chops all the way home.

 Amen!


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What. Are. You. Going. To. Do. About. It.

It's been a very rough one and a half weeks for all of us, dogs AND humans, in our humble abode. Sonya and Preacher must have thought that our long absences and undoting presence were personally directed toward them. No matter how much I tried to explain to them that our frequent and constant departures were for a critical, unwelcome situation they just don't want to accept it.

Preacher wasn't as bad as Sonya. He just moped, hung his head, and tucked his tail when it was time for me to leave the house again. Sonya, on the other hand, was raving mad! Four days ago, after they'd been fed and been outside long enough to do their thing, I was in the bathroom getting ready to leave the house again, Preacher wouldn't leave me alone! He nudged me, whined, paced around me, just being generally restless. He finally got me to follow him - you have to have a pet who lives with you to know when you are being beckoned - out of the bedroom. And there, smack on the middle of the carpet, were balls of turd dropped about every foot from the bedroom door to the end of the hallway. And it's a loooooong hallway, at the end of which sat Sonya, so prim and straight, staring right at me. If words could convey what possibly might have been going through her mind, these are how they might go: "Yeah! WHAT. ARE. YOU. GOING. TO. DO. ABOUT. IT."

Silently, without even looking at either of the dogs, I picked up Sonya's retaliation, one by - [gag!] - one. Call me a wimp, call me a sucker, call me wrapped around their phantom dew claws; how could anyone blame them for their action? 5-Star Scotty hadn't been home for six days and five nights, and I had been home only a handful of hours each day for six days. These poor dogs, who are so used to LIVING with their humans, have a routine of potty breaks, walks, and playtimes, that was suddenly disrupted so dramatically. I'd say I'm lucky they didn't bite me!

If you don't live with your pet, then you wouldn't understand and appreciate how they adore and worship you. So much so that if/when you start neglecting them, they will do what any human child would do as well! They will do anything, and I mean ANYTHING to get your attention, whether it be something destructive (yeah Sonya, I'm sorry, I'll clean up your poop, and I won't even complain of the smell...), or just purposely being in your way. Case in point, [click] Sonya, refusing to get out of the way of the vacuum...

When all is back to normal, I owe these dogs a year of NO BATHS, NO NAIL TRIMMING, daily TWO HOUR WALKS, LIVER AND STEAK FOR DINNER, and DAILY THIRTY-MINUTE RUB DOWNS.

But we all know that ain't ever happenin'. [Shhhhh! Don't tell Sonya or Preacher.]

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Preacher! I'm Gonna Kill You!

Preacher:
Uhhh, hi Mom. Yeah... I found this... you know, just sitting on the very, very, very edge of the table.

Preacher:
Okay, okay! It was in the middle of the table, not on the edge... Sonya made me do it...

Sonya:
You kitty cat! When are you going to learn that all it takes are airplane ears and sad puppy eyes to get Mom to see reason?! Gimme that!

Preacher:
I have good news though. Yesterday I ate your credit card statement.

Mom:
Like that's going to make the the bill go away!


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