[Dailydrool] Cleaning up Baby

[dpmcquade at verizon.net]

Dear Snoopy:
I would love to know what your mama does to make you love bathtime so much. That's because I have a bathtime story of my own.

Last weekend, we took in a foster named Baby. She is just wonderful. But having come from a puppy mill, over the course of a few days, I noticed that she was becoming stinky. Sure, the rescue had probably had her washed six times before we got her, but that puppy mill stench still sneaked out of her at night, while she was lying on my bed.
 
Finally I geared up to do what I'd been trying to avoid: Bathe a strange hound who had limited experience of such things.
 
I checked with others at the rescue for advice on how to get Baby clean. I called my groomer, who was booked up on baths until Christmas. I called one of those big chain pet stores, where we had had our Abner bathed with much success; they needed to have proof Baby had had a rabies shot, and I didn't have that on hand because of a glitch in records.
 
So I did what one person recommended and took her to the local self-wash place. They were very nice on the phone, and I had hopes things would go smoothly.
 
When I got there, the girl who took my money paged someone to clean up the bathing area. Evidently that did not happen before I got to the back of the store, where the bathing area was. A quick look around seemed to show that all was in order, but when I started bathing Baby, I noticed that there was a lot of dirt and other stuff under the grating she stood on. Since she was already partly wet, I attempted to spray as much as I could down the drain, then just hoped for the best.
 
About that time, I had a bucking bronco on my hands. I managed to tie Baby down with both the provided ties, though it took me a while to figure out. Still, she could reach the edge of the tub and attempt to jump down. Since I had her on a martingale collar, I feared she'd strangle herself. So I stood directly in front of her, to keep her in the tub.
 
The tub had what I will loosely call a doorway through which dogs could enter the thing. Problem was, the "door" that closed this was simply a loose piece of metal with a handle on it. It did not close fast or stay in place. (Do you see where this is going yet?) When I was almost done with the bathing, the tub, which was now filled with red dirt from Baby, along with the black dirt that I'd not been able to coax down the drain, began to overflow through the doorway. Happily, the floor was tiled and had two drains in it. I guess others had been in my shoes before this. Speaking of shoes, I was glad I'd worn my rubber clogs. But the rest of me was beginning to get very wet indeed.
 
I hurriedly rinsed Baby, grabbed the provided towels, and dried her as quickly as possible. If only the floor drain had worked as quickly as the towels. I was still standing in about an inch of water. Somehow I managed to get Baby down off the tub and out the door of the bathing room. As we finished, I expected to turn around and see a hoard of spectators watching and applauding Baby's athletic prowess. 
 
Thankfully, there was no one there. I dropped the towels in the inch of water, to make sure someone would do a thorough cleaning job for the next person. As I stepped out of the room, I felt as if I'd been through the wringer. I probably looked that way too, since my whole right side was wet, and much of my left side wasn't much better. I was just happy I'd warn a sweatshirt, or this might have turned into a very bad wet T-shirt contest.
 
I grabbed some ear cleaner on my way out and at the cash register ran into the same girl who'd taken my money for the bath. Already seeing the humor in this whole situation, I asked if they got a laugh out of seeing people wet like this. She probably thought I was mad, but by now I'd seen the humor in the situation.
 
I will probably always remember Baby for our escapade in the bath. I doubt it's something I will ever repeat. Unless, of course, your mama can tell me her secret.
Pam, food slave to the Dashing Bassets and foster Baby