Operation Suds-A-Pup...The Sequel

So, the first time we gave the pups a bath, it was in the kitchen sink and took quite a bit of arm strength to hold them in.  The next time was in the sink again, and this time they were on to our evil ploy and fought back with all the wet wiggly maneuvering that only a wily puppy could manage.  This time it was obvious that there was no way these pups were going back into the sink.  The weather outside was not really conducive to trying the old turn-the-hose-on-them trick, so that really left only one alternative that I could think of: the bathtub.

Now, no dog worth their salt is going to stand happily and get doused with water in the bathtub, especially after they have made their opinion known about what they thought of the sink.  Furthermore, the bathtub is upstairs, and we have already established that mastering the climbing of stairs is a work in progress even when dry.  I figured that if they got up there and met the fate of being saturated and scrubbed and toweled, much to their dismay, maybe it would keep them from wanting to go up there anymore.  Hmmm, maybe I can turn this mission into a double bonus!  Clean dogs that stay downstairs!!!  This could be great!!!

Or not.

The kids and I made a big happy fuss about all the fun the dogs would encounter of they came upstairs with us, and they gladly obliged by bounding up the stairs (tripping only a few times) and happily bouncing into my bedroom.  They came into the bathroom and sniffed around.  I looked from the pups to the deep tub and realized I might have a bit of a logistical problem here.  If the pups decided they were not thrilled with the bath (hard to imagine, I know) and migrated to the back of the tub, I would not be able to reach them without climbing in.  Even if I did climb in, you know they would take advantage of my change in tactics to bob and weave their way to the front, over the edge and run dripping throughout the upper level of my house.  I was going to need some muscle on either side of the dog in the tub in order to pull this off.

Kids, get your swim suits on!  Mom has a job for you!

I for one am not a proponent of child labor in any form, but for as many times as I have slogged across the wet grass in the morning in my slippers and pajamas picking up steaming piles of dog doo while the kids watched me from the window (thanking their lucky stars it wasn't them, no doubt) I figured this time they can take one for the team.  They donned their suits, climbed in, got cups and dog shampoo at the ready, and happily called to the pups.  Smelling a trap, both dogs immediately turned tail and ran to the bedroom door, that luckily I had remembered to close.  I managed to herd them back towards the bathroom, where Bodie made the mistake of cautiously sneaking a peek over the bathtub edge to see what the kids were up to.  I came up behind him and scooped him up (no small task, believe me) and eased him over the granite ledge into the tub.  He popped back up like a jack-in-the-box, putting his front feet on the ledge and eyeballing his escape.  I barked to the kids to make their move, as time was fleeting.  They started pouring water on his back and working the shampoo through, making him slippery and even tougher to hold on to.  Finally Bodie just resigned himself to the fact that if he stood there and cooperated, the whole issue would be over much quicker, which it was.  In just a few more minutes he was rinsed off and "squeeged" by my seven-year-old slicking his hands along Bodie's back and tail, sending wet gobs of black hair flying all over the tub and walls.  Disgusting, but the least of my worries at the moment.  With great effort, I lifted Bodie out of the tub and tried to get a towel around him before he ran off but alas, was too slow.  He darted across the bathroom and danced all over my bedroom carpeting, leaving wet paw-prints trailing behind him which reminded me of the dance-step mats of yesteryear.  I finally body-slammed him to the floor and wrapped him in a beach towel, trying to wring out what little water was still on the dog and not in my carpet.  He was not thrilled, but that made two of us.

Make that three of us.

All this time, Leila had been watching this event play out like a Hitchcock movie.  When I finished with Bodie and turned to call Leila, her look said it all:  "Oh, HELL no!!!"  Her eyes wide, she backed away from me just far enough to get off the marble bathroom floor and onto the bedroom carpet where she promptly peed.  Lovely!  If she wasn't worthy of a bath before this, she definitely is NOW!!  She began running left and right with moves that would make an NFL quarterback envious, and after a merry chase I made my move, managing  to corner her and pick her up and plop her into the tub in one giant swooshing arc.  It's amazing how fast and flexible I can become when a.) I'm irritated by now and b.) I have a puddle of pee to clean up before it soaks into my carpet pad.

Now, you will notice that there are no photos of Leila in the tub with the kids. that is because unlike Bodie, she was not going to go down without a fight.  By "fight" I mean she was auditioning for the bucking bronco position at the Dog Wash Rodeo.  Flailing left and right, she managed to get both front feet on the granite ledge of the tub and one back foot before I could grab her and put her in a bear-hug so the kids could soap her up with the speed of a NASCAR pit crew.  Meanwhile, Bodie is jumping about and hollering as usual,  completely pissed that he is once again separated from his sister and yet hysterically pleased that it is her and not him again.  Leila manages to get one foot down the front of my shirt and into my bra, which was pretty much the game-ending move right there.  She is still slightly soapy but it's obvious that statute of limitations has officially expired, and I pull her out and extricate her from my sopping shirt and towel her off.  She darts away to join her brother who is fully engulfed into his "silly five minutes" that only wet dogs can enjoy.

I look back to my kids.  My daughter has scratches on her legs from Leila's madcap water ballet and my son looks like a Yeti, covered to the neck with black fur.  The ring around the bathtub could rival that of Saturn.  Troopers that they are, the kids clean out the tub while they are in it, then gingerly step out of there and directly into the shower where now it's their turn to wash away the dog grime.

I don't know how long it will be before I wash the dogs again, but it's obvious it won't be in my bathtub again!  I'm quickly running out of options.  The ridiculous amount of money the dog groomer charges to wash dogs is starting to look pretty damn cheap right about now.

I open the bedroom door and the dogs plummet down the stairs and run happily around the living room, chasing each other in celebration of their new found freedom.  I look back to the bathtub, where the descending water level had slowed thanks to a wad of dog hair blocking the drain, and no less than four beach towels lie in a soggy heap next to hair-covered swim suits.  I toss my Leila-soaked tee shirt on the pile and just chalk it up to another day in the life of two Bernese Mountain Dogs that occasionally need soap and water maintenance.  What other adventures could they have lying in wait for me in the future?

Forget I said that.

Stay tuned.....