We have (or had) a dog that stinks...bad. Ty and I were standing in the kitchen on Monday night going "what's that smell???". "I think it's Wally...," was Ty's response. He began sniffing at Wally's fur, which was oddly quite the role reversal - usually they sniff us. "Yep...it's him," Ty declared. I replied with "No way! Can't be." I leaned down to contribute to this sniff-fest. Huh, I thought - not bad enough to stink up the kitchen, but certainly not delightful. Right then and there we decided that Wally needed a bath.

You see...we forget that Wally doesn't swim (yeah...he regularly displays some pretty wimpy behavior when faced with the prospect of becoming FULLY SUBMERGED in a large body of water). Hunter, on the other hand, is in the water almost daily. Thus, eliminating the need to bathe him very often if at all. As a result, we've carried over this aloofness towards bathing to Wally. In a way, you could say we deserved what we got. A stinky dog.

So...last night it was time to do the deed. Ty and I debated the best place to rinse the stinker out...the bathtub or outside. Outside would save on cleanup, but the bathtub would confine him to the bathroom and give him minimal places to run. But...given just how dirty he was, we decided that cleanup would not be fun and we both envisioned splatters of dirt-laden water being sprayed across our bathroom walls with each of Wally's inevitable shakes of the body. An outside bath won out this time.

To avoid the "run away" syndrome that both Hunter and Wally exhibit when approached with a hose, I strapped Wally to my body with a leash around my waist and the other end attached to his collar. I must say, it worked pretty well. As predicted, he lunged away from me at the sight of running water, but I was able to reign him in pretty quickly. He submitted, with his head between my legs, to the "torture" that ensued. I wet him down and began to scrub. He shook the suds off pretty often, so my decision to bathe him outside was confirmed as a good choice quite quickly. Once I was done with the suds, I began the final rinse...again with his head hiding between my legs. And then...he was all done and I released him from his confinement. The second that leash was unclasped, he charged around the yard...shaking the water from his scrawny little body after every few steps. He looked at me from a distance with a confused look...afraid to come too close for fear it would happen all over again. As though he was saying "what did I do to deserve that!?!?!?!?" I turned to Hunter with hose in hand (Wally was still wandering the yard in recovery mode) and asked "want a bath Hunter?" His ears perked, as though interested. All it took was for me to turn the hose towards him and he bolted. It was pretty funny. Since Hunter had just gone for a swim 20 minutes prior, I let him go unscathed. This time...hee-hee-hee.

BEFORE


Notice how happy he is...at this point, he doesn't know what's coming.

AFTER

The trauma is over and the smile is gone. Poor dog, but lucky us!