dogs will be dogs.

So unless you are new here, you know that Daisy is my doghter as well as an extension of myself. She is the best dog we could have asked for and I truly couldn’t imagine life without her. She is so much more than a pet that I pretty much forget she is one.

Let’s travel back a few weeks to Columbus Day. I was off work and had grand plans to do homework. I was trying to work on economics but I couldn’t get my photography assignment out if my head so I decided to go outside and take a few pictures. I planned on sticking around the house so I took Daisy out and hooked her up. I spent a few minutes in the back yard and she wandered around with me before going to sun herself on the patio. I decided to check out the front of the house and snapped a picture (literally, one!) before heading back to the patio. I knelt down to take another picture and I hear Daisy jingling as she runs back to see me. As she gets closer I notice she had something on her fur and then as I get closer I can smell her.


I have no idea what she got into and rolled in but she smelled horrific. And she would not even look at me, she knew she was in trouble.

Now Daisy has a fear of the bathroom. She will not go in one but for a few steps and then immediately backs out, she won’t even chance turning around.

So it’s 2:00 p.m., Keith will not be home from work for hours, I am all alone outside with a filthy dog who hates baths. We had never actually bathed her in a tub, only ever outside in the summer. It was probably 50 degrees out, so hosing her down was out of the question. I decided I had to go for it.

I led her inside, holding onto her collar. Into the laundry room where I mostly stripped down. Then I quickly led her to the basement, where thankfully there is a bathtub. Getting her in the actual bathroom took several minutes, but luckily it is small, so I was able to get her partway in and then slowly inch the door closed. And then it was a standoff. There was no way she would voluntarily get in that tub and I really didn’t think I would be able to lift her (60lbs of filthy, terrified dog) but I had to go for it. Keith later said it was a mother’s strength. Haha.

But I somehow got her in and got her bathed and we were all slightly happier after that was over.

She is sooo much like a person that when she actually does something dog-like, it is that much more shocking. But like I told her at the time, “Joke’s on you, bath hater.”

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