The Doggie Wash

I didn't post yesterday because, well, nothing much happens if you sleep the day away. So today, we have the official 100th post.

Today, we washed the dog.

I didn't get up early. We weren't very well prepared. But Iggy has been downright stinky for the past week and we wanted to take care of it.

As if the gods disagreed with this plan, our shower's half-clogged. W. and J. are on holiday, it's Sunday so all the shops are closed and the casino downstairs isn't mob-owned, so there's no drain de-clogger available to us. We did not let this stop us in our plan.

I put on a shirt J. had given me which she didn't want since it didn't fit right and is very much too big on me. No one wants it, but I needed some protection between Iggy's claws and my nipple piercings.

First, we tried getting him wet.

It took a while to get the temperature right. We didn't test that one on Iggy, but rather my wrist. Not too hot, not too cold. Then there was the problem of water pressure. Getting his back wet is easy, getting his chest or underside wet... not so much.

Iggy looks like some kind of low-level, face-eating video game monsterling when his face is wet, by the way.

Surprisingly, though, he didn't struggle much. First there was the shock of OMGWATERNOOOO, but he pretty soon figured out it was nest-temperature and, well, not doing much.We only have one setting on our showerhead where the water pressure might be classified as approaching high. We never use that one, since it comes with a pathetically small water beam. Iggy got put under the 'rain' setting, which is gentle and soft and impossible to get to a painfully high setting. There's drizzles that come down with more power than that.

Then physics turned against us. By the time we'd slow-walked Iggy into getting everything wet, ending with his face, his back had dried. I'm used to a thick-furred cocker spaniel that takes hours and hours to dry even if you towel and blow-dry for an hour. Iggy's not that kind of dog, apparently.

So we adjusted our plan. We re-wetted Iggy's back, shampooed it, and rinsed it out. Then his paws, then his butt (which was very dirty and icky), his underside (almost no hair there) and then his chest and face. Iggy did not appreciate any of this. I'm assuming it's because there's a slight scent to the soap and he can smell that it's not his smell.

Worst of all was his face. Iggy's face is this little cloud of hair, hiding its shape. So I didn't figure out he got his dad's face. A pug's face. He has no nose bridge to speak of. Any and all water that runs down his forehead ends up in his nose. At first, that was just a trickle, and he licked it away in and adorable fashion. Then I had to actually get the water on there and he sneezed. And sneezed. And sneezed. When I finally took it away, he'd had enough, as I'd been assuming he would. He tried to scramble out of the tub, despite the fact that I was keeping his forepaws off the ground and his hind paws had no purchase whatsoever on the tub.

Boyfriend held Iggy as I got a towel. He didn't mind being toweled that much, but still fled to a spot against a wall when I set him loose, where he could see the enemy coming.

I picked him up, got a chew stick and wanted to put him in his basket... Except his blanket was as dirty and stinky as he had been, and underneath, the basket was covered in sand.

Introducing Iggy to the vacuum had not been on the to-do list, but we couldn't let him sleep in there.

The blanket got thrown next to the laundry hamper, and I plugged in the vacuum cleaner. Iggy, at this point, wasn't sure what the big orange thing was, or why I was pulling a thin black tail out of it. Then I switched it on and he ran for cover.

It was only a short vacuuming session, and not a very big area to vacuum, but Iggy had hidden as far away from the orange monster as possible. When I came to pick him up and put him back, he disagreed. So far, he'd been soaked, soaped, toweled and then I'd stolen his blankie and set a monster on his safe spot. I'm very much back to being classified as 'the evil one' in the household, even if he spent a few minutes relaxing on my chest last night (after a lot of minutes of shivering and shaking). Getting a hold of him took a bit of effort.

I put a fresh blanket in his now-clean basket, put his toys back in and then plunked him down in the middle of it. He hasn't moved so far, but he still trusts his basket to keep its invisible force field up and keep him safe. Which doesn't mean he looks up suspiciously at every noise we make for now, ready to bolt if we show signs of taking him back into the bathroom.

Oh well. I'm going to take my anti-vertigo tablets and see if I can get the oven clean.