by
K9WebWorldNabu
I love my dogs. I truly believe there is a special place in heaven for those of us that do; a nice padded room with a view, would be my guess.
Okay, I like the smell of a clean dog - especially if he is sharing the pillow next to me - and no - my husband works midnights.
There is nothing like a warm summer breeze to bring out the soap and towels. When you own large dogs - any chance to wash the dog "outside" is seized upon. Of course this means running a hose to the house for warm water - and some added leg work, but when you're washing something the size of a "small mobile home," outside is a good thing. It saves on the clean up later.
This is of course another "Rufus" story. I have bred, trained and shown dogs for over thirty years, and although I have long since given up on the breeding aspect - I still enjoy the dogs. Rufus defies any breed I am familiar with - in intelligence and his comedic abilities.
Towels are ready - I am ready, old T-shirt and cut offs, and the 150 pound dog that I couldn't get out from under my feet thirty seconds ago - is gone.
I finally find him - he's hiding behind a tree. Of course the tree is about three inches round, a twig I'm trying to convince to grow, and hides only a narrow strip right between his eyes - he however is convinced he is hidden.
We start applying water - just about the time I think he is soaked enough to warrant adding soap - he shakes. I pick up the hose again, and again he shakes, did I mention he is really good at this? The amazing short haired coat of the bloodhound sheds water exceptionally well. I am so impressed that I wish about now I had a raincoat, because I am drenched.
I can't find the end of the hose sprayer, Rufus has it. This is a dog that can and has hid an entire coke can in his mouth - closed.
I finally give up on the amount of water I feel is needed for lather and start with the soap, By now Rufus has figured out I have all these neat bottles of "stuff" laying around for his enjoyment, I remove the "slimed" soap bottle from his mouth, and as I "squeeze" the bottle, it of course squirts out of my hand. Not a problem - Rufus runs for it, and I "dive" for it. I win, but I'm still not sure if it was worth it, as I spit grass from my mouth and push Rufus off my head.
Rufus is now having a great time, and grabs the hose and runs with it. Thank god it was attached to the house. Although I'm not sure but I think the foundation shifted ever so slightly.
We are now into serious scrubbing. Rufus loves this part and as I massage the soap in, his back and head do amazing wiggles - the skin of it's own volition can wiggle in different directions all at the same time and of course this leads to a shake. I wipe soap from my face as Rufus "smiles" lovingly at me and looks for something else to pick up.
As I do the final rinse, and tell Rufus to shake (gives me the feeling of being a fine trainer) a rainbow spray of water fly's through the air, coating everything within a radius of 500 yards with water droplets. I wipe water from my eyes and look for my dog. Not too worry, Rufus has the towel and is "rubbing" himself on it on the soaking grass.
I finish drying him and give him "his" towel (there is no one in the house that will use his towel despite Clorox and repeated washings) I watch as he joyously runs about with his towel.
About this time, I wish I were my dog
