Sailor here.
Zoe warned me. She said, “Sailor, if you get into mud or dirt or get too smelly, you’ll have to go with Mom to the Do It Yourself DogWash.”
Me? Smelly? She must be joking!
“What is a Do It Yourself DogWash?” I asked. “I usually go to the groomer. “
“It’s this tiled room in the back of the pet food store. It waits for you and lurks. Then it traps you and grabs you and chains you to the wall.” Zoe shuddered. “You can never be sure when it will get you. You and Mom could be just strolling through the pet store looking at the hamster cages and pig ears and doggie beds, when suddenly WHAM, you end up smack in the middle of the DogWash!”
I looked at Zoe in amazement.
“Then what?” I asked.
“This room smells like water and wet dogs,” Zoe went on. “It has six bathtubs up off the floor and hoses that blow water and soap and water and more water and air at you. Mom attaches your leash to the wall so you can’t jump out. Then Mom starts by putting coins in a hungry box and dialing for soap and water. And the soap and water and then air come whooshing out of these hoses ALL OVER YOU.”
She hopped in a circle and shook herself, starting at her head and shaking downward to her tail. Her collar and dog tags rattled and clanked. Zoe is not fond of the dog wash.
“Well, Zoe,” I said, relieved to hear that this was only a bath place. “It doesn’t sound so bad. Anyway, I know all about bathing and blow-drying. I used to be a show dog. I’ve have been bathed many times when I went to a dog how and had to get dressed up and look pretty. ”
“When Mom is through with me at the DogWash,” Zoe said, “Mom is wet, there is hair everywhere and both me and Mom are a little crazed.”
When, I ask you, is Zoe NOT a little crazed?
Zoe warned me. She said, “Sailor, if you get into mud or dirt or get too smelly, you’ll have to go with Mom to the Do It Yourself DogWash.”
Me? Smelly? She must be joking!
“What is a Do It Yourself DogWash?” I asked. “I usually go to the groomer. “
“It’s this tiled room in the back of the pet food store. It waits for you and lurks. Then it traps you and grabs you and chains you to the wall.” Zoe shuddered. “You can never be sure when it will get you. You and Mom could be just strolling through the pet store looking at the hamster cages and pig ears and doggie beds, when suddenly WHAM, you end up smack in the middle of the DogWash!”
I looked at Zoe in amazement.
“Then what?” I asked.
“This room smells like water and wet dogs,” Zoe went on. “It has six bathtubs up off the floor and hoses that blow water and soap and water and more water and air at you. Mom attaches your leash to the wall so you can’t jump out. Then Mom starts by putting coins in a hungry box and dialing for soap and water. And the soap and water and then air come whooshing out of these hoses ALL OVER YOU.”
She hopped in a circle and shook herself, starting at her head and shaking downward to her tail. Her collar and dog tags rattled and clanked. Zoe is not fond of the dog wash.
“Well, Zoe,” I said, relieved to hear that this was only a bath place. “It doesn’t sound so bad. Anyway, I know all about bathing and blow-drying. I used to be a show dog. I’ve have been bathed many times when I went to a dog how and had to get dressed up and look pretty. ”
“When Mom is through with me at the DogWash,” Zoe said, “Mom is wet, there is hair everywhere and both me and Mom are a little crazed.”
When, I ask you, is Zoe NOT a little crazed?
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