A little dog goes a long way

This is a story about a woman and her smelly dog. Actually, she’s not too smelly most of the time––the dog, I mean. Not the woman… um, actually the woman isn’t particularly smelly either, but this is about the dog.[*]

And it’s a good thing too, that the dog is not normally very smelly, because her baths typically require two able-bodied adults, and involve the shredding of clothing, and the clean-up of long sudsy trails down the hallway.

Since we don’t relish that kind of drama, we last bathed her when it was warm enough to not feel bad about dousing her with the hose outside for a minute and calling it good. When it’s cold we just let her go about smelling like dog. I feel a little guilty about that because once I promised a certain someone she’d be bathed on a regular basis.

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The lengths we’ll go to avoid the dread “Melty Face”

When was the last time anyone wanted to push a vacuum around here? How about daily? I know, I was thinking the same thing: we have a vacuum?

What we do have is a new dog. Penny comes without papers, but with just about everything else you’d want in a dog. She’s mellow, rarely barks, doesn’t shed and never jumps on people. She knows about a dozen tricks – more than both our kids put together. She’s about half the size of either of our last two dogs (something I care about particularly after having carted an ailing dog in and out of the house repeatedly over much of the last six months). She tilts her head in a cute way when I make a funny noise at her, which I do a lot. I need to remember to keep the windows closed.

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