I was inspired by circumstance yesterday to bathe our two Cockers. The circumstance that led to my inspiration was waking up with twenty some odd flea bites scattered at random about my bod. For those of you who have not experienced flea bites, allow me to cast a bit of light on the subject. They itch. They really itch. They itch like effing crazy! Why, with three dogs and a woman sharing the same room, the fleas would select me as dinner is a question begging an answer, well, by me anyway. Surely it is more than "I'm just a tasty fellow."
I should point out that all three mutts were treated with medication advertised to prevent fleas, ticks and extra-terrestrials from invading their bodies for a minimum of thirty days. The treatments were given three weeks ago... can I get my money back. Finnegan, the Golden, still appears flea bite-less, but the two Cockers and I, as I've noted, not so much.
I first stripped down to my bite spotted nakedness and then donned my swimsuit. I snagged the nearest mutt, Mattie, hauled her into the shower and placed her on the ledge we have installed there for sitting, but is most often used as a shelf. If you are wondering why the swimsuit, consider the relative height of the ledge and its proximity to my genital hang while standing, and you will surmise that I was wise to minimize the temptation for a slippery, wet, sudsed-up, wanting to escape, sharp toothed mutt to cast about for something to latch onto. We will perish that thought. While holding her collar by one hand, I diligently applied the flea and tick removal shampoo for ten minutes as per the instructions. Neither the dog nor I enjoyed the interval and I wondered why fleas take so long to die. After a good rinse, I loosed the grateful pup into the bathroom at large where I had covered the floor with old towels. These were, of course, completely ignored. Shaking was the drying technique of Mattie's choice even as I chased her around the room snatching at towels and trying to rub her down. It wasn't long before I arrived at a convenient "that's good enough" mind set and opened the bathroom door. I then watched as the still somewhat dripping mutt leaped onto the bed and began to further dry herself on the spread and pillows in the precise manner that I had visualized her using the towels for. No matter, I thought. Those babies were all headed for the washer/dryer soon as the dogs were done.
I then repeated this entire sloppy process with Raffi in exact, minute detail. Deja vu all over again as Yogi would say.
Following the fun and frolic of the dog's bath, I turned the game over to Charly who spent a large chunk of day washing everything cloth ever touched by dog or man. I am now happy to report that neither mutt shows signs of further itching. Wish I could say the same for my own-self. Fortunately, (if their is a fortunately, that is, a happy ending to this story) my itching is from old bites, not new ones, and I do have an answer for that.
Somebody hand me the Grubers.
4 comments:
Ooooh, I wanna spend my day giving dogs a bath! If they're your cute dogs, I'll even take the flea bites first in order to do it!
As for Finny and Mamacita: they're obviously too mean to be tasty. Which means you're too sweet. Riiiight.
One year at school D's new dorm room was infested with fleas or bedbugs. The mattress, the carpet, everything. They had to fumigate. He had so many bites from the first night. It was pretty gross. Always wondered who had that room the year before.
Hahahaha. Just read D's post. Had a dream last night that the whole family was on vacation together, staying in a cottage on the beach. D&D&J's room was totally infested with crazy bugs. We brought in a bunch of birds to eat them all. (I guess that's the way they do it in dreamland.) None of us were surprised to learn who had rented the cottage before us - Brangelina and their (dirty) brood.
Therapy is available at Weird-dreams-anonymous.com. They offer a twelve step program. First step is a cold turkey stoppage of reading or listening to anything about celebrities.
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