A dirty little secret. My mom brought me to a groomer for a bath. Twice. The first time I didn’t know what was happening. Pretty bad. Bath. Brushing. Drying. Shaving and cutting. Then I was so soft and smelled like a flower—not a doggie. Why get a dog if you really wanted a flower?
But yesterday I knew. I saw that weird dog in the bathtub and I didn’t want to go in. I was shaking. There were lots of little doggies running around. They didn’t smell like they needed a bath either. Again-- washing, trimming, brushing, drying.