It should come as no surprise to anyone who reads this blog that I hate baths. I have since I was a puppy. When Mom brought me home from the shelter, I had ticks, so he gave me a bath in the sink, and I screamed the whole time! I was six weeks old. Dogs aren't even supposed to have a fear period til nine weeks. I'm very mature.
I have tried everything to keep my mom from giving me a bath. I can be very scary -- lunging at her barking with my teeth bared. But she never gives up on me. That's what happens when you're best friends.
It had been about a few months since my last bath, so I knew I had it coming. Chubbs, of course, is perfect in the bath. I think he does it on purpose just to piss me off. Fenway is too little to protest, so they just pick her up and toss her in. But what about me? How do they handle me?
Well, they have tried everything, including a muzzle and leashes. But in the end, what works best is positive reinforcement. My mom took a bag of lamb lungs (yum) into the bathroom and waited for me to climb in the tub for them. It took a long time because I was scared. She kicked Dad out when he got too impatient. I let her put water on me, and then I jumped out. I was too scared. She was giving me lamb lungs the whole time.
I'm afraid of shampoo, anything coming out of a bottle really (don't ask me why), so she puts the shampoo on a washcloth before I even walk in, so I don't have to see her do it. When I was standing outside the tub, too afraid to get back in, she sneak attacked me with the wash cloth and gave me lamb lungs. After a few more minutes, I got back in, and she washed me off. I got more lamb lungs. Because of her kind approach and lamb lungs, I didn't try to attack her once. It's the first time in a long time. She said she was very proud of me, and I'm the best and smartest ever. She's right. I am.
Love, Muggsy
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment