I'm sure you would have understood my fears.
Through the past couple years, I've been pleasantly surprised by his "puppy." Sure, there were the tinkle-accidents when people came to visit and the handful of attempts to run away from home, but for the most part, it's been a pleasant experience. Since I came in to the picture on a permanent domicilary basis, she's gone through a rebellious stage. Just the standard "new woman in the picture" stuff - chewing up one of my beloved Harry Potter books, frolicking on the couch when no one was looking, eating my parents' oak door, refusing to eat, ignoring me, you know, the normal things. But now that I've shown her that I am here to stay, G and I are getting along famously. Or so I thought.
Last week, I decided that the dog had to have a bath. It costs about $30 to have it professionally done and since I'm a tight-wad, I decided to do it myself. I've bathed Giselle once before and it was a tramatizung experience for us both. She hated it. [Note: when I say "bath" I really mean shower. As in outside with the water hose. I am so not letting her hairy paws into my bathtub. You must be crazy.] She tried to escape, she rolled on the ground (which was actually mud) so that I couldn't spray her, she had some bladder control problems. It was awful. But last week, things got to be too much. I just couldn't handle her corn-chip-smelling-self anymore. Plus, she's shedding like crazy and I'd almost had it. As in, shave her, had it, but I don't think Matt will go for it so I opted for the bath.
Anyway, I got all the bath stuff out and ready. And then I got the dog. I put a simple rope leash around her neck and put my foot through the hand hold so she'd be attached to me and I'd have both hands free. She did just fine until I turned on the water hose. I knew she'd try to make a break for it, so I was ready. She jetted out into the yard - or at least she would have had I not cleverly used a leash and attached it to my leg. The little deliquent didn't go anywhere. Ha. I knew she was nervous so I used my calming voice and told her about how pretty she was going to look and how much her daddy liked seeing her clean and not smelling her. She just stood there while I sprayed her with the hose and lathered her all up with doggie shampoo. She did shake a few times, but that just can't be helped. I don't know if you caught it, but she STOOD there. She didn't lay down, she didn't crouch, she STOOD! It was perfect. I got her all washed off and mostly towel dried and all she did (other than initial escape attempt) was shake off the water. Praise Jesus.
I let her spend some quality time outside after her bath so that she could dry some more in the sun. And then, I let her inside.
And she stared at me.
For hours.
No matter where I went.
She would follow me and stare. If I sat, she would sit and stare. If I stood, she would stand and stare.
For hours.
I call it the "Stare of Loathing." Here, I took a picture. I mean, it wasn't hard getting her to look at me or anything.
And then, her daddy got home and the staring stopped. That always happens, she acts like a perfect angel when Matt is around, but the second he's gone, she's a hellhound.
Thank goodness Matt's home for a few days otherwise I'd have to break out the celestial bronze. But still. All in all, I think I won this round.
