There's a pooch in my shower!

If you’ve been reading the Kitchen Philosopher column for a while you may recall me mentioning that, due to a lack of kitchen/laundry facilities while renovating our house, I was at one stage forced to wash the dishes (and everything else) in the shower. But who would have thought that a few years down the track I’d be at it again? In this case, washing the dog.

Now don’t get me wrong. I am not one of those truly doggie people who think their dogs are actually furry humans with stinky breath. Nor that they should be allowed to eat from your plate, sleep in your bed and lick your face if they want.

No, I have not quite succumbed to the Seduction of Scruffy Dawg, my mini-schnauzer, although I do admit to teetering dangerously close at times. (Okay, I did find myself lying on the floor the other night snuggling with him …. just because he looked soooooo cute and I couldn’t resist. But I still don’t think that qualifies me as a full-blown nutty dog-person….does it?)

Anyhoo, suffice to say that, on this ‘showering’ occasion, I didn’t have too many options. Outside the weather was cold and miserable, so Scruffy (with full support from his….um…mum) shunned the idea of outside ‘bathies’. The laundry trough had proven, on the last frustrating occasion, to be of inadequate proportions for effective wrangling of wet, squirming dogs. And so I was left with no other choice than to resort to the hand-held shower in the bathroom.

This proved to be more difficult than I imagined. Holding a slippery, wriggling mutt in one hand, while hosing him with the other, while soaping him with the other….um…wait a minute….I think you already see my dilemma! Well, let’s just say it aint easy. Especially when the Scruffy Dawg is not the most willing of participants.

Eventually, but not before soaking myself and pretty much the entire bathroom in the process, the ordeal was over and Scruffy and I were locked in a vice-like embrace as I attempted to dry him with a towel. This lasted approximately seven seconds before he escaped and shook himself vigorously, doing laps of the bathroom as he shook (to ensure maximum wall-spray coverage, you understand).

After a moderately successful second attempt with the towel we moved to phase two of the drying process — the ‘crazy-dog dash’ around the house. Phase three entailed trapping the canine world’s answer to Ricochet Rabbit and holding him in a headlock while trying (fairly unsuccessfully) to blow-dry him with the hair-dryer. I would guess Scruffy’s enjoyment levels at this stage were on a par with us humans having a tooth filled but, to his credit, he managed to stay still for a few seconds and I succeeded in drying the hair on his bum, if nothing else.

But it’s been worth all the effort. He looks and smells great! And as they say “Cleanliness is next to Godliness”.

Or was that “Dogliness”? I guess it all depends on how much of a nutty dog-worshipper you are. (Note* If you’re dog’s name is Zeus, Apollo or Yahweh, you’re probably a sad case).