My two-legs always teases me when I sit like this...
It has been pretty quiet here the past few days. The boredom has passed a bit, though I still do not feel quite right. The days progress pretty much the same. Walk. Eat. Play. Sleep. Walk. Eat. Sleep.
My two-legs and the skirted one find it hilarious that I sit with a bit of flare. Just because I partially tuck one leg under my butt and lean to one side does not mean I am a weirdo. I look comfortable right?
There has no rain from the sky in almost 29 days (two-legs time keeping). For me, this is a momentous occasion for multiple reasons. I hate rain. I hate water in general. So no rain means no walks in the rain. Hooray. My two-legs is nice enough to know that I do not like clothes, they upset. Some owners do not quite get that. I read about this poor schnauzer, Fritz, who was forced to wear a slicker. My heart goes out to him.
Most importantly, no rain seems to equal no (or at least fewer) baths. Two-legs does not seem to understand that I can just lick the mud off my paws and underside when we get back from a bad walk in the rain. Instead, he would rather torture me with indoor rain. At least I can anticipate a rain-bath. There is nothing as upsetting as an unexpected bath, unless it is coupled with a haircut. I like to block out those days.
Hmmm, storm clouds seem to rolling in.
Why does my two-legs do horrible, horrible things to me? I show him nothing love and yet he continually terrorizes me. Take today for example:
I was sitting around, resting. Big-little-bro was destroying something. And my two-legs was sitting on the couch watching Futurama. He looks over to me, “Ruff, you’re getting pretty shaggy. I think you need a haircut.”
A haircut? Why does that word sound so familiar? “And you know what happens after a haircut? A Bath!!”
Bath? Bath?!? Nooooo! Damn you! The water is so loud, and it gets in my nose and ears. I just cannot stand it, I want to die.
I try to hide but he always finds me. Big-little-bro is no help, he just cowers in the corner. He knows what a bath is too, and he likes them even less than I do. The haircut is no picnic either. I am pretty sure I passed out while he ravaged me with that buzzing beastly thing. The next thing I remember is being lowered into that white fiberglass pit. Naked and scared. *guwarrrrrKswissssshhhhh* Indoor rain pours out of the metallic serpant head. He could at least let it warm up first. Then comes the soap. *scrub*scrub*scrub* This is torture, it has to be torture. The end is near, freedom is coming. *hnkft*snarf*pftht* Water up my nose. Must get it out. Ah, towel time. Wait, what is doing. This is no time for pictures two-legs!
I am so hurt by his attempt to bathe me.
Well great, now have that recorded for posterity. Can you please just dry me off and let me run around to dry? Must break free of this place! I paw open door and shoot out of the bathroom like a bolt. Bounding from couch to chair to couch to bed to chair to floor to big-little-bro to couch in effort to drive all of the water out of me. That. Was. So. Stressful.
Some 4-legs like the water. I loathe the water. The only thing I want to do with it is drink it, but even then, it must be contained in a shallow dish or bowl so it cannot attack me. I am going back to sleep now. That totally took all of my energy to panic and be upset over bathtime. My hair is not grey on its own… he stresses it into me.