Neither of the dogs we had earlier were into re-landscaping. Sure, Misha would dig the occasional den to curl up in, and Jack laid waste to an entire row of corn stalks one day while I was at work, but for the most part they and the back yard plants had an understanding: live and let live.
Until now.
I know that puppies have a natural curiosity for just about everything and like to explore and in some cases destroy. But these two have set their sights on a certain member of the plant family that they deem unacceptable landscaping specimens and at the same time great fun: the agapanthus.
Admittedly, I hate agapanthus. I have several in the yard, quite large ones in fact, but they were there when I moved in 13 years ago; I claim no responsibility for actually choosing them in the nursery. They always remind me of gas stations and low-budget motels. They are a popular meeting facility for snails, and anyone who has ever broken off a leaf or stem knows they ooze a clear, sticky fluid the consistency of hand sanitizer only nastier. About the only redeeming quality this plant has is that it is bulletproof: needs little water, is evergreen, pretty much keeps to itself and throws up the occasional big blue firework of a flower and calls it a day.
But "bulletproof" apparently does not mean "berner-proof."
Bodie and Leila attack this plant like it's both their worst enemy and Disneyland all rolled into one. They leap into it, ripping and tearing, leaves flying everywhere like a pair of single women fighting for the bride's bouquet. The once domed-shaped bush is now flat in the middle and crying uncle. Sometimes Leila sneaks under the canopy of cascading leaves and attacks from beneath. The agapanthus has definitely met its match. But it does have a defense mechanism: it can go to the compost bin happily knowing it has covered both dogs in sticky oozy slime. Take that, hairy destroyers!!
Needless to say, the dogs don't come in until the ooze has dried onto their fur and looks like they have been run over by snails. Add to the fact that they have then scampered through dirt which stuck to the ooze and Bodie also managed to roll in the one pile of dog poop that Leila neglected to eat, and there is really only once course of action left for these two: bath time.
I wasn't really quite sure how to give these dogs a bath. They are still about the size where they can fit into the kitchen sink (although not for long) and that would certainly be an easier reach, so we all set out towels, puppy shampoo, and of course the camera. This was definitely going to be a family affair. We started with Bodie since the poop-rolling incident boosted him to the top of the priority list. He wasn't thrilled but seems resigned to the fact that this was going to happen. He made a half-hearted attempt to escape a few times by putting one paw on the sink edge and was not at all surprised when my husband gently put the paw back down and continued lathering him up. He seemed more peeved that I was taking pictures of the event than the actual watering-down itself. After finishing him up and wrapping him a towel baby-style, we handed him off to my daughter for a rub-down and dry. One down!
Leila was next. Much to the surprise of no one, she took one look at wet Bodie and then at us coming for her and she bolted from the room. Once caught, she spread all four feet in four different compass-point directions in order to avoid being lowered into the sink. This dog was not going down without a fight! She worked hard to get those sticky snail-trails and was not ready to part with them, apparently. After a brief struggle, it was obvious this was going to be a two-adult operation, so I handed the camera to my 7-year old son to document the moment (hence the artistic-impression photos). With both my husband and I holding her and trying to suds her up at the same time, she was not going to win this battle but was making it quite clear she was not a fan. I thought she would shake wet soapy droplets all over both of us just out of spite. We finally gave in and called the job done (half-assed as it was) and commenced with the drying portion of this comedy routine. That lasted about thirty seconds before she took off like a shot and ran full speed throughout the room in what my British mother charmingly calls "having a silly five minutes." Not to be outdone, Bodie joined the mayhem, and two wooly wet puppies are rampaging through my house, rubbing up against my couches and generally making the entire house take on the aroma of Eau De Wet Dog. Suddenly the agapanthus slime doesn't seem so bad after all.
To tally up the carnage, the agapanthus now looks like a bald man with a bad comb-over, my husband's tee-shirt is soaked down the front, my kitchen counter is flooded and the Tinkerbell character on the kids' towel I grabbed to dry them off with is covered in black fur and looks like the bearded lady at the carnival freak show. The dogs, however, are clean and soft and Bodie no longer smells like Leila's backside. but where is Leila now?
I go into the back yard and clap my hands for her. A shiny black head with brilliant white blaze pops up from the center of the wounded agapanthus, tail wagging, a long leaf stuck to the side of her head. I pinch the bridge of my nose.....I feel a migraine coming on.
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