Rubber Ducky

I have the most kick ass little dog ever. She’s not an ankle biter, she doesn’t have one of those annoying yippy barks, she doesn’t even really bark. (But when she does, it’s wicked cute.) She gets along with big dogs, she’s a great hiker, and once she chased off a bear. (Black, not grizzly.) I continue to drag her to new and unfamiliar cities and she stays laid back and low maintenance. Which is good, because my best friend has a very high maintenance young golden retriever and there is no way I could deal with that. Plus, Pint’s poop is only about the size of a marshmallow, and she usually hides behind a tree, so most of the time I don’t even have to bother picking it up.

As much as I love my dog, tonight I am going to do something to her that I know she HATES. Tonight, she is getting a bath. I might not be able to do much with her stank breath, but I can wash off some of the shit smell on her. Every time she sees me get out the doggie shampoo, she runs away from me and hides. How can you not anthropomorphize an animal when it’s SO obvious they have emotions? And after she is done with a bath, she is like Speed Racer running all over the house, trying to run away from the awful memory of warm, sudsy water. Sorry Pint, but tonight you’re getting clean.