‘Uh-uh! No! Off!’ Mummy won’t give me a cuddle. She won’t even let me sit on the same lounge with her.
‘Mummy don’t you love me anymore?’
‘Of course I love you, but you stink!’
‘No, Mum…’
‘You’ve rolled in something disgusting!’
Not true. I don’t stink. True, there is an overlay enhancing my distinctive doggy fragrance. I had found a delectable perfumed spot on the ground—a delightful smell of putrescence! I just couldn’t resist rolling over and wriggling on it to absorb as much as I could. But I don’t stink! I am just richly scented!
I have to give in though. If I want to get near Mummy I have to have a bath.
A bath is bad--it takes away so much of your personal odour… Now I’m not sure you people puppies understand, but for real dogs it’s like stripping you of your individuality. How boring it would be if you went to exchange friendly sniffs with your real dog mates and everyone smelled like doggy shampoo.
Wet fur is bad. Do you like getting your hair washed? No, I didn’t think so! And you only have fur on your head—can you imagine how bad it is when you are completely covered in it?
But Daddy makes baths as good as they can be nice baths. I stand in warm water and he massages me all over and pours jugs of warm water over me. That feels good.
But then he lifts me out of the laundry tub. Suddenly I am wet and cold. That feels horrible! I try to wriggle away but he won’t let me go. He puts me in the house and shuts the door.
I just go bananas—running around and shaking water off my fur and rubbing against the furniture and the carpet to dry myself—or at least that’s what a would do if Mummy didn’t snatch me up in a towel and rub it all over me. I pretend I don’t like it. I jump off her lap and look at her holding the towel wide and attack the towel and wrestle with it. I play fight with the towel a few times until I’m warmed up again and nearly dry.
‘Mummy don’t you love me anymore?’
‘Of course I love you, but you stink!’
‘No, Mum…’
‘You’ve rolled in something disgusting!’
Not true. I don’t stink. True, there is an overlay enhancing my distinctive doggy fragrance. I had found a delectable perfumed spot on the ground—a delightful smell of putrescence! I just couldn’t resist rolling over and wriggling on it to absorb as much as I could. But I don’t stink! I am just richly scented!
I have to give in though. If I want to get near Mummy I have to have a bath.
A bath is bad--it takes away so much of your personal odour… Now I’m not sure you people puppies understand, but for real dogs it’s like stripping you of your individuality. How boring it would be if you went to exchange friendly sniffs with your real dog mates and everyone smelled like doggy shampoo.
Wet fur is bad. Do you like getting your hair washed? No, I didn’t think so! And you only have fur on your head—can you imagine how bad it is when you are completely covered in it?
But Daddy makes baths as good as they can be nice baths. I stand in warm water and he massages me all over and pours jugs of warm water over me. That feels good.
But then he lifts me out of the laundry tub. Suddenly I am wet and cold. That feels horrible! I try to wriggle away but he won’t let me go. He puts me in the house and shuts the door.
I just go bananas—running around and shaking water off my fur and rubbing against the furniture and the carpet to dry myself—or at least that’s what a would do if Mummy didn’t snatch me up in a towel and rub it all over me. I pretend I don’t like it. I jump off her lap and look at her holding the towel wide and attack the towel and wrestle with it. I play fight with the towel a few times until I’m warmed up again and nearly dry.
Then comes the best bit. Good doggies get treats; I am a good doggy. I let Dad give me a bath without squeaking or trying to escape, so now I am going to get treats. We play the egg cup game. Mummy says ‘Wait!’ It’s hard to wait when you’re excited—but Daddy holds me on his lap—and holds on to me, and keeps on holding on to me.
Mummy takes a treat and I watch her put an eggcup over it. Then she does it with another treat and eggcup. And another one. [That’s three so far.] Then she does it once more. Finally she says ‘Okay’ and I leap off Daddy’s lap.
Mummy takes a treat and I watch her put an eggcup over it. Then she does it with another treat and eggcup. And another one. [That’s three so far.] Then she does it once more. Finally she says ‘Okay’ and I leap off Daddy’s lap.
I tip over the first eggcup and eat the treat—crunch, gulp. Number 2—crunch, gulp. Number 3—crunch, gulp! There we are I’ve counted to three. I stop a tiny moment. Is there another one. Yes, there is! Crunch, gulp!
‘That is number 4’ says Mum. ‘What a clever doggy!’
Yes, I am.
I can count past 3 now.
I can count to 4 !
I can count past 3 now.
I can count to 4 !
‘Can we play again Mum, please, Mum?’
Daddy holds me [and gives me an extra treat].
Mummy hides treats under 4 eggcups.
Okay !
Can we play again Mum, please, Mum?’
‘NO’
[When Mum says no in bold capital letters I know I it’s no good to try to get her to change her mind.]
‘Can you get more eggcups when I take you to the shops, Mum?’
‘Maybe…’
‘NO’
[When Mum says no in bold capital letters I know I it’s no good to try to get her to change her mind.]
‘Can you get more eggcups when I take you to the shops, Mum?’
‘Maybe…’
Mummy sits down and I jump up on her lap.
- She rubs my chest.
- She tickles me under the chin.
- She does little scratches on the top of my head.
- She strokes me along my back.
- She makes a ring with her thumb and first finger around the top of my tail and gently pulls it down to the tip.
M-m-m!
It is so nice, so comfy…
I think I’ll just close my eyes and…
ah-h-h, yawn…
so sle…
z-z-z-…
It is so nice, so comfy…
I think I’ll just close my eyes and…
ah-h-h, yawn…
so sle…
z-z-z-…