It was a rainy day and Neville reeked. So off we went to Dirty Dog, a washateria for dogs, or we like to think of it as a day at the spa for Nev.
Let’s just say that spa life is not his cup of tea. He did not like the special ear-cleaning towelettes. He did not like the shampoo. He did not like the rinse. He did not like the blow drying. And when we tried to spray him with the Doggy Cologne, he just wanted to eat it. But, after all that agony, he did smell great, and he was as soft as chenille. If he could have spoken English, I’m pretty sure he would have said, “Hey, I look good!”
After his uneasy day at the self-serve groomer (he had figured out by now that it wasn’t really a spa), we treated Neville with a visit to Petco. (They actually allow dogs to shop with their owners–brilliant marketing–sort of like walking with a toddler on the sugar-cereal aisle.) Neville talked us into buying some fresh acrylic chew-bones and a new pheasant toy since he had been such a good sport at the washateria.
And, since he was feeling all gussied up and frisky, he sidled up to the rawhide bar and had himself a much deserved fancy treat. Ahhh, this is the life.