But enough of that! Dorothy had her first bath in my abode and it was rather long overdue. The girl was ripe. I think I will now add Dog Grooming to my long list of professions at which I would not succeed. There’s a reason why there isn’t “A Sudsing” in the title above.
I put Dorothy in about eight inches of toasty warm water in the tub. She was pretty sure I had done so by mistake, so she considerately jumped right out, drenching me in the toasty water, and spreading at least one of its inch-age onto the bathroom floor. I put her back in the tub. Again, she was sure I hadn’t meant to do so, oh pardon me, and quickly and politely tried to jump out. Did I mention that bulldogges, not unlike Bon Jovi fans, are slippery when wet? They are. More warm water on me; more warm water on the floor.
By this time I was struggling to open the Johnson’s baby shampoo, which had a top secured with a little foil circle that could not be punctured by a fingernail. I decided I needed to reach back to the medicine chest to get the tweezers, while simultaneously trying to keep Dorothy firmly planted on the tub’s watery floor. And all together now: she jumped out! Yes, indeedy, she did.
And back in the tub she went. At this point, she began to realize that the whole Dogge In Tubbe thing was intentional and not a silly error on my part. So she trembled. I lathered. Or tried to, but Bulldogge bristles don’t seem to encourage a very enthusiastic lathering. Nor do trembling baby bulldogges. I quickly sudsed her back a bit and got her tummy and her chest and her hind flanks. I then cleaned her pretty face and massive head with a washcloth, and began to drain the tub and rinse her with fresh water, only to realize I had forgotten to clean her privates and her four sponge paws. Oh curses. Oh lazy me.
But the Drying had already begun, and unlike the Wetting, Dorothy really liked this part! This was fun! She was placed on a bath mat and rubbed with several dry towels, which she had to help kill a bit with her sharp mandibles and patented neck-breaking shake. Once she was no longer dripping, I opened the bathroom door and the Zoomies began! It turns out that post-bath zoomies are not just a pug thing: Dorothy ran all throughout my apartment, up the hall, down the hall, sometimes chasing one cat, sometimes chasing the other. She then began Zoomies: The Sequel, and started to incorporate all upholstered furniture into her zoom. Up on the chair, down to the floor, up to the couch, down the hall, up on the bed, over to the bedroom chair, etc. etc.
Dorothy zoomed herself dry, while I tried to mop up the swamp in the bathroom and launder the dog-scented towels. I wouldn’t say Dorothy is as clean as she was when I got her. She is not spick n span. Not all of her body made it out of the bath sweet-smelling. But her overall aura now is definitely more baby shampoo than rotten patch in park. And that is something.
My camera ran out of batteries in the middle of the Wettinge, so I shall just put a random picture here from Dorothy’s past. How about Baby Dorothy sleeping with her Aunt Suzie (pic by Jess Seiders):