she was sweet and neurotic and in most ways very un-doglike.
but whenever we would subject her to a bath in the backyard, she always reacted the same way.
she stood, rigid as a statue, while we hosed her down and lathered her up. her look of pathetic resignation was almost enough to convince us we truly were torturing her. (almost.) we tried our best to choke back our guilt as we rinsed her off in the cold spray.
and then, the second we let go of her collar, she took off like a bat out of hell.
she would tear around the perimeter of the yard three times, as fast as her four furiously working legs could carry her girth. then she would promptly go find a dead skunk and roll in it while cackling gleefully.
my children react much the same way to the shedding of their fabric confinement. (minus the skunks, of course.)
as soon as those clothes hit the floor--FREEEEEDOOOOOOOMMMM!
they're running around the apartment--up the couch! down the couch! jump on mommy's bed! run out of mommy's room before she grabs us! up the bunk beds! down the bunk beds! life is good! WE'RE NAKED!
unrelated picture of desmond when he trashed the closet (a.k.a. his bedroom) one night
at least they usually keep their nude voodoo dances within the walls of our apartment.
although there was that one time when they both escaped and took off streaking around all the buildings...
my neighbors love me.