Wednesday, August 12, 2009


Jib here.

Today Mom looked at Zoe and said a bad word. Sailor gasped and hid in my dog crate. He thinks he’s safe there. I hid, too, behind the couch. But I peeked out to see what would happen.

Mom took off Zoe’s collar. She put a slip lead around Zoe’s neck. She put on her rubber apron. She led Zoe out to the side of the garage.

From the smell of it, Zoe had a bath. From the look of it, Mom did, too.

Mom ran back inside for more towels. She said the towels were for her, not Zoe

Mom says that the minute she gets Zoe all wet, Zoe shakes. Zoe outdid herself today. She got Mom very wet. Her apron was wet. Her neck was wet. Her arms were wet. Even her hair hung down in drippings.

Mom says it’s hard to wet Zoe down to the skin. Zoe says her coat is dense on purpose. If she is mushing on the Iditarod Trail and she falls into a river, her skin won’t get wet. She won’t freeze. And she says that pulling a dogsled is such hard work that her fur will dry from the skin side out. That’s how much heat she will make running the Iditarod.

Mom says that Zoe lives in California and that she doesn’t need an Iditarod coat. Zoe disagrees. She still thinks she will someday get to Alaska and pull a sled. She says she will be the lead dog.

I jumped up to look out the window. It was sunny. It was hot. Mom was back at the bath tub with Zoe. I saw Mom shove her face into the towel. Then she gave Zoe a cookie I woofed, but Mom ignored me. Sailor stayed in my crate, drooling a little. I think he was nervous.

After Mom dried as much of herself as she could, she turned the water back on. Zoe was rinsed and rinsed. All the dog hair that fell out in the bath was flung into the bushes for the birds. There must be a lot of birds needing nesting fur. There was that much dog hair.

Then Mom brought Zoe into the back yard. She lifted her onto the Cheese Table. She turned on the dog dryer that blows fur and gravel and leaves. It sucks up water, too. Fur flew into the air. Great clumps of fur.

Mom dried and dried. Zoe licked and licked. Then the dryer stopped. All by itself. Mom said a bad word that wasn’t “bath.” She went inside to see if anything broke on the breaking box. She said nothing broke.

But something did break. The dog dryer broke. Zoe broke it. I was happy. Mom wouldn’t ever blow my dry again. Ever.

But I was wrong. Mom opened the cupboard. She took out the small dog dryer that was always a dog dryer. It is orange, whatever that is. Mom says it takes forever to dry a dog with this dryer.

Mom finished drying Zoe. It took forever.

Then Mom dried her own hair with the dryer. She blew off the dog fur from her legs and chest and arms. She came back inside looking really scary. But she went into the forbidden water bowl room and came out looking like Mom again.

Zoe is very proud. She says the backyard looks like it snowed. What is snow? Sailor says I lived in snow after I was born. I don’t remember. If snow is fluffy and gray and covers everything, then it snowed. It snowed in my backyard.

Zoe says she is going to get even with Mom. She is going to finish blowing her coat all over the house for the next three days.

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