Yesterday, the dogs had their first baths of the new year. This is Aisling's job and she loves to do it, mostly because it puts her in the position of being able to boss the dogs. I had to work very hard to convince her that she could not use my deep conditioning hair treatment on their fur. She was deeply disappointed.
When the door opened on the upstairs bathroom, Hershey shot down the steps as if he'd been launched from a giant slingshot. He pranced into the living room, where Meelyn and I cooed over him and his fluffy fur. I then had to work very hard to keep him from drying himself off on the carpet.
Wimzie dearly loves a bath and she hopped down the steps like a happy bunny, her normal ill-humor suspended in the pleasure of being massaged with shampoo and sprayed with nice, warm water. Aisling had put a barrette in her bangs and I had to work very hard to keep Wimzie from clawing it out of her hair and eating it. Wimzie then indicated that she felt it was only right for me to offer her a hot dog as payment for not eating Aisling while the blow dryer was running.
The dogs shared a frankfurter and seemed very pleased.
Currently, the two of them are lying in front of our big living room window. Sun is pouring over the floor like warm honey and both dogs are stretched out on their sides, soaking it in. Every now and then, one of them will heave a contented sigh. Wimzie has been lying there long enough to roast herself and she's panting heavily, lying flat on her back with her four feet in the air in a ridiculous manner.
"It feels good on my stomach," she says to me with her button-bright eyes, upside down.
Hershey just got up and moved to his favorite shady spot under the dining room table. He can still monitor the sidewalk out front for squirrels, lawyers and the occasional mother pushing a baby stroller. He gets hot because his coat is so very, very black.
All in all, they are greatly enjoying this bit of early spring sunshine. I haven't broken it to them yet that we sometimes see freezing temperatures and snow flurries up to the second weeks of April, but as long as there are hot dogs (the furry kind) and hot dogs (the sausage kind) in the world, I don't think they much care.
SURVIVOR! 42 years! #SisterhoodoftheTravelingPinkSweater - [image: photo DCE66A95-A69B-406C-A811-97D584B6979A_zpsuhhubjtt.jpg] This is my friend Mary. Mary is a 42-year survivor of breast cancer. That, of course, is...
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