Pancake’s Perils of the Bath

Wiggles has her Theo, who is a softie underneath his machismo. Pancake is all girl – except, ahem, when it comes to her personal hygiene. Basically, she has none.

Now this is not to say that Himself and I don’t see El Cake-O licking herself constantly. Cause we do, morning, noon and night. And her teeth are white, white, white – though sometimes a hair or two gets stuck in her mouth and you see only one bottom tooth exposed – we call this The Snaggletooth Look.

However, for all her trips to TJ Maxx and enjoyment of a good chick flick – you should have seen us snuggled up watching Miss Congeniality on FMC a few weeks ago – she HATES the bath. But after a few trips to the dog run and her insistence on “presenting” herself to every Fido and Bowser she meets, she is so filthy you can smell her three feet away. 

And it’s not even a bath, for god’s sake. We pop her in the sink and wash her as quickly as we possibly can. It’s a two-person operation and I always have treats on hand for when it’s over. She lets us do it (cause let’s face it, she’s got no choice) and when it’s done, I dry her with a big fluffy towel as best I can.

But it’s not enough. She acts like a crime of the highest order has been perpetrated, and she’s the victim. She runs away from me as soon as she can, and usually has to sleep for about an hour to recover from the trauma. Then the girl who is normally the sweetest thing gives me and Himself about 10 dirty looks, while we bow and scrape and try to hug her and apologize for the sin of trying to clean her. I always tell Himself that it looks to me like she wants to call the ASPCA and say, “They put me in the sink and they got me wet and then they used SOAP! Get me out of here!!”

Oh, Pancake. It’s a small price to pay, really, to be the prettiest puppy on East 59th street, isn’t it?

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