We had to call this a "beauty intervention" because the word "bath" would have set off the alarm. As it was, Dilly acted as if we were trying to drown her. We invited her into a tub of warm water. The water was no higher than her ankles, but she thrashed and jumped and fled for refuge under the Joe Pye weed. What an ordeal for man and beast.
Why must dogs roll in unspeakable, smelly muck? We went to the cabin this past weekend. On two successive days, Dilly came back from a romp in the woods smelling just awful. Spot-cleaning didn't do the trick. When we got back to Laurel, she was still redolent of something horrid. So she had to have an "intervention."
Tris liked to roll in dead fish. She hated baths and getting her into the tub was always an adventure.
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