Wicked Willie has been in the bath and dragged Lady Maggie in with him. Both culprits have been at it with the scratching, plucking and chewing – maybe it’s the wet weather mixed with the pollen or a hitchhiker flea (not that we can see any) but the baths run and the special shampoo is out.
And as you can tell neither are impressed with the service, although, Willie is determined that his ball needs to be saved from the evil wet stuff and no amount of sad eyes or pitiful crying is getting either of them out. For mummy and daddy are not falling for it.
However, by the colour of the water they must have been really needing a bath as it turns from a crystal clear pool to a murky lagoon.
We could of just taken them outside in the garden and held them hostage under the lashing rain but that solution was not approved of either as it’s still the horrid wet stuff – just it’s a cold temperature rather than perfectly pawlicious one.
Funnily enough now they no longer mind the humiliation of being left as we trudged off to work this morning, favouring that over the bath of doom. They even walk backwards towards us, offering bottoms to the doggy odour de purfume (rather that than be purfumed near noses) and just as they think thier ordeal is over…
Willie drops off a couple of bombs and while our eyeballs melt, through the tears we can see the horror on his face. Who did that? What was that? Accusingly he looks our way, until he follows the smell (to his own bottom) and as he takes in a good deep sniff – he drops a noisy one, lifts two foot in the air and begins to bark at the terrifying beast which is following him – his own bottom…
And we shake our heads and snigger – we sometimes worry about Wild Willie because sometimes he really is dead thick 🤣