Washed the Dogs

We took the bulldogs walking early. It is always nice to go walking early, that beginning of the day, nothing quite like it. I wore jeans, it was really a shorts situation, and I was sweating by the time I got home. I never get sympathy from Sam with such miscalculations, just a roll of his gorgeous eyes. It was still a lovely morning for a walk, despite my wardrobe mistake.

I picked up a wrought iron pedestal and a set of wooden steps in the street. What people throw out? Nothing like a disposable society, hey? Unsatisfiable wants? And we think we are going to survive as a species? Still, don't know how we are not the hoarder house in the street? The pedestal and the steps got heavier and heavier in exact proportion to the dogs increased sniffing of just about everything with which they came in contact.

We washed the dogs, so they smell like flowers now. Sam's repeated suggestions/requests/demands finally wore me down. 

“Okay, fine, let’s do it.”

Sam won’t give up, otherwise.

It is a good thing Buddy and Bruno don’t mind the shower. Bud will get straight in. Bruno will hesitate halfway into the bathroom, but he will get in eventually. I have to stop Buddy getting in, as we wash Bruno first, always Bruno first, as Buddy is much calmer about the whole procedure.

We use a mountain of towels, all the beach towels we don’t use for the beach.

The promised rain finally fell, but just for half an hour, or so, not the three days of life threatening deluge, (most likely with a bit of thunderstorm asthma thrown in, you know, just for the ratings) as reported breathlessly by the weather reporter. Keep them scared, it will keep them watching.