On Saturday morning I was all in Spring Cleaning mode, for like an entire two hours. Things were vacuumed and thrown away and straightened. I was on a roll. If there’s anything that helps me deal with stress it is cleaning. Yes, even the bathroom because even me in all my dreaming and fantasizing of bathroom fairies knows when to say when.
Just before I was ready to clean the tub my dog walks in and starts whining. This would be her first mistake and why the following incident is totally her fault. So I take the dog out and I’m standing on the porch watching her and wondering when it’s going to finally get warm here and I see her digging in the dirt. That’s it! This pig dog needs a bath and if everything else is clean she ought to be, too. And, what luck, I haven’t cleaned the tub yet!
So I call her in and pick her up and she gets this look in her eye that says dear, Lord, help me. Lola hates baths. Hates them. If she were a spy and being forced to tell the truth by threat of water torture, she’d sell out in a second. Her fear of water is great and powerful. I put her in the tub and because Lola is a high-maintenance, special, I-have-to-eat-only-very-expensive-dog-food-or-bad-things-happen dog, the shampoo I have to use in her baths is also special. It has to sit on her for about 10 minutes while she sits in the tub and whines and dreams of living on a farm where she could live like a pig forever.
During this time I usually sit in the bathroom with her and sing her songs or teach her commands in Spanish. (Yes, I am still certain it is the water portion of bath time that she hates most.) But on Saturday during the special soaking time the phone rang. I tell Lola to “stay” and go to answer the call of what turns out to be someone I dated about a year ago. Awkward. Nice. We have a strange conversation for about ten minutes and never really get around to the real reason he called when I say I’m sort of in the middle of something and I’m sorry but I have to let him go. With no promise of future calls (bullet? dodged), we hang up and I’m on my way out of the kitchen when I see the bottle of pineapple rum just sitting on the counter.
Of course it is just coincidence that someone brought diet 7-Up to my house and, as it turns out, this is now one of my most favorite drinks ever. Yes, I am a simple woman. So I look at the clock and it is early afternoon and yes, I have a report to write but what the heck, a drink will only help that. So I mix a nice drink and at this point I have clearly forgotten about my dog sitting in the tub. I walk back into the living room with my drink and, what do you know, one of my favorite songs is on the radio.
Backing up a little (in life, not the day), one of my most favorite people when I was a little girl was Crystal Gayle. I used to sing along to my little records and I could still tell you every word to every song as if it were just yesterday. I also tried to grow my hair really, really long and there was actually a time I wished my blue eyes were brown so that I could sing that song and make sense. So when I walked through the living room and heard Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue I was instantly transported back to my eight-year-old self and just sat down in the middle of the floor and listened to the song.
Man, I loved that song. And, of course, anytime we have a good childhood flashback, all the feelings and dreams just come flooding through and before we know it, we’re in full life-analysis mode. Or maybe I should have said I am, because it’s possible this doesn’t happen to anyone else. I probably spent another twenty or thirty minutes sitting on the floor thinking about whatever came to mind.
It was about then I heard a distant squeaking noise which snapped me out of my deep thinking and back into reality. A reality where I’d left my poor, soaking wet, shivering dog in the tub for what had to be forty-five minutes. I ran in, apologized to her profusely and promised she could have cupcakes for dinner. It’s times like this when I think it is absolutely ridiculous for me to ever think I should be allowed to have children.
{ 12 comments… read them below or add one }
Aww poor baby! That dog deserves cupcakes and ice cream! hehe
Isn’t it great, the unconditional love of a pet? I’ve done this to my dog as well, and she forgets about it easily. Wish I could let go of things as easy as she does.
Oh my god that poor dog! Mine would’ve been howling by that point.
Thank you for that. I needed a big smile : )
She’s such a good pup to stay in the bath tub that whole time. Mine would have made a break for it the moment I was out of sight.
Just Hillarious
My dogs would have been out the door ahead of me – - it always took two peple to wash them! What a great dog you have.
Music… it definitely can make us forget where we are and what we are doing, if only for a moment!
Am I the only person that wants to know if the dog actually stayed in the tub this entire time??
I have to agree with A-Ron. How in the world is it that your dog stayed in the tub, let alone the bathroom for 45 minutes?!? I figure A. your dog can’t jump out of the bathtub, B. you somehow tied your dog into the tub, C. You have trained your dog to really STAY put, in which case we all learned something very interesting about you, rather than your dog. BTW did the tub ever get cleaned?
Poor Lola! I’m sure she is a good smelling pup with the extra time though she was soaked.
Scooter also hates water!
Anyway, have a good week.
Oh, that’s just too funny. Poor thing…my old dog Orie, a miniature pinscher hated baths too, but he was such a princess dog, he wouldn’t even go through mud puddles (he lived with mom and dad most of his life) and their current dog, a white one none the less, loves mud puddles…not sure how he is about baths. No, I had a Brittney that left alone wouldve jumped out!
What a good puppy. I hope there were many cupcakes for dinner. My cat would have shredded the shower curtain, the toilet paper roll, and every towel in the room. And then puked for good measure.
Poor baby, lol. That was a sweet little story..made me smile, thanks for that.