A Peaceful Sunday, Ruined by Shampoo

It was supposed to be a peaceful Sunday morning. The sun was shining, the garden was warm, and Mama and Papa were relaxing outside with comics, laptops and iPads. Everything was calm—perhaps too calm.

The Seating Situation

I decided that I wanted to sit with Papa. I have my own perfectly comfortable chair, arranged specifically for me, but I did not want it. I wanted Papa’s lap.

Papa tried to continue using his laptop while I made my requirements increasingly clear. Eventually, he accepted the inevitable, put it aside and lifted me onto his lap. Excellent. Everything was proceeding according to plan. What Papa did not know was that I had prepared a little surprise for him.

Eau de Backyard

Earlier, I had discovered something magnificent in the backyard. I do not know exactly what it was; I only know that it smelled wonderful. Naturally, I rolled in it. Thoroughly.

Getting a good scent into long fur requires technique. You cannot simply walk past an interesting smell and expect results. There is positioning involved: shoulder first, then the neck, a little back action, and perhaps another roll for even coverage. I had put considerable effort into it.

Papa apparently did not appreciate craftsmanship. He smelled me. There was silence, followed by horror. According to Papa, my carefully selected perfume was “shit.” Humans have absolutely no appreciation for the finer things in life.

Betrayal in the Bathroom

Events escalated quickly. One moment I was sitting happily on Papa’s lap; the next I was being transported toward the bathroom. Then I saw it: the bathtub.

No. Absolutely not.

I communicated my objections through body language, facial expressions and several entirely reasonable complaints. Nobody listened. Into the bathtub I went.

Water was everywhere. My beautiful fur was soaked, and all those carefully collected backyard aromas disappeared down the drain. Then came dog shampoo, dog soap, more water and more washing. Hours of scent acquisition were destroyed in minutes. Do these people understand how difficult it is to find something that smells that good? Apparently not.

The Great Escape

Then Mama made a serious mistake: she looked away for just a moment. I was alone in the bathtub, and a plan began to form inside my brilliant little mind.

There are moments in life when you must be brave, stand up for what you believe in, and launch your wet, soapy body out of a bathtub. ESCAPE!

×

I was out. The floor was wet, the bath mat was wet, and I was wet. This required the only sensible manoeuvre available: SHAKE. Water flew across the bathroom. Excellent. SHAKE AGAIN. Even better.

Mama and Papa attempted to catch me. Amateurs. I shot past them and headed for the safest place in the house: under the sofa.

The Sofa Siege

My defensive position offered excellent overhead protection and limited human access. Mama called me; I ignored her. Papa tried to reach me; unsuccessful. For one glorious moment, I believed I had won.

Unfortunately, Mama does not always play fair. Instead of accepting defeat with dignity, she asked Papa to corner me from another side and Mama drag me out from underneath. This was clearly cheating. My fortress disappeared, and I was captured.

An Acceptable Ending

Somehow, the story then took an unexpected turn. The sun was still shining, so I was placed in a comfortable garden chair beneath it. Mama and Papa dried me thoroughly with a towel and carefully combed my fur while I stretched out in the warmth.

Hmm. Warm chair. Sunshine. Freshly brushed fur. Personal attendants. Perhaps life was not quite as terrible as I had previously reported.

×

My eyes grew heavy. It had been an exhausting afternoon: I had discovered an excellent smell, perfected my perfume, survived a bath, staged a daring escape, flooded the bathroom, defended a sofa fortress and endured a complete grooming session. I deserved a nap.

So I curled up in the sunshine and closed my eyes. After all, I need my energy. There is probably still some perfectly good shit in the backyard.