Bath is a Dirty Word

By Trish Hubschman

Henry

I didn’t want a bath. I didn’t need one. Okay, maybe I did need one, but I didn’t want one. But I didn’t seem to have a choice, did I?

“As soon as the temperature goes into the eighties,” Dad said. “Henry’s getting a bath.”

Did they think of asking my opinion on this? No, they did not.

“Good,” Mom replied. “He needs one, but I don’t think we’ll be able to lift him up into the bathtub.”

She had that right. Hee-hee. And I’d make it even harder. No one was going to pick me up. I’d make sure of that.

Dad shook his head. “No bathtub and I’m not taking him in the walk-in shower with me again. He freaked out when I closed the shower door.”

I did not. Well, not exactly. Hm, maybe a little. But I had my reasons. I don’t like getting wet, washed or shampooed. I land up smelling like a girl, which I’m not.

Mom smiled. “You mean, out on the patio with a bucket of water?” Mom sad. It wasn’t a question. They used to do that with their last two dogs and I heard those guys didn’t like it either. Mom looked at me. “You’re not going to like that, are you, buddy?”

What could I say?
She knows me. now, what was I going to do?

. . .

A few days later

I jumped up on the side of Mom’s desk chair. She was in it, staring at her computer. She was wearing headphones. The chair swiveled a little when i jumped on it. Oops, sometimes I don’t know my own strength. Mom turned to me and smiled. “You have to go out, baby?” she asked.

I had to think about that. I don’t think this was actually an emergency pee-thing. I just wanted to go outside. It was almost carrot time and the back door was off the living room where we gathered at five for our evening carrots before dinner. I dropped back down from the side of Mom’s chair and sat staring at her.

The smiled didn’t leave her face. “Give me a second,” she said, turning back to her computer, doing something on the screen. She took the headphones off and laid them down on the desk, then reached for her walker and pulled herself up. “Let’s go outside, my love.”

I trotted after her. We both went outside. Mom likes to go outside with me and I like her out there too. It’s not like she’s keeping an eye on me. She doesn’t see too well. She just likes to be with me and I like that too. I roamed around a bit and picked up my leg, then trotted back to the door where Mom sat on the ground. We went back inside.

“Is it hot out?” Dad asked

Both Mom and I looked at her legs. At some point, she had changed into shorts. She made a face. “Pretty much, I guess. Why?” she replied.

“I think it’s time for someone to get a bath,” Dad said.

What? Heck, I knew who that someone was he meant. I’m protesting. I glanced around me looking for a place to hide, but there were none. I was doomed.

Mom and I went back outside. Dad stayed behind to get my leash. I didn’t understand. I figured maybe he was going to take me for a walk before doing the dreaded bath deed. That got me excited, in a good way. When he came back out onto the patio with the leash dangling from his hands, I stood up on my hind paws. Dad hooked my leash on, but then handed it to Mom. “Hold onto this. It’ll be easier than his collar when giving him a bath.”

I wrinkled my nose at that. Did he think I was an escape artist or something? He went back into the house to get a bucket of water. Here goes, I told myself, and waited. I think I was holding my breath. Dad came back out and told Mom to hold onto my leash. She was. He slowly poured the water over my back. I was shaking, terrified and close my eyes. I opened them suddenly. I looked over my shoulder. That didn’t hurt, the water going on my back. It actually felt soothing. Something wasn’t right.

“Now, rub the shampoo in,” Dad instructed.,

This was the part where I landed up smelling like a girl.

After that, Dad poured more warm water on me and then tossed a towel on me, which mom wiped me off with. I didn’t pull away. This was weird. Then I raced back into the house wet. I felt pretty good. It took a few hours for my fur to dry on its own. I think I was what humans call “squeaky clean”.

“Hm, he smells so good,” Mom said. “Like baby shampoo.”

“Oatmeal shampoo for dogs,” Dad corrected.

Oh, I thought, not sure how to figure that one into it. But I was too tired out from being so good.

Trish Hubschman is the author of 6 Tracy Gayle mystery nobels, the most recent being, “More Gayle’s Tales.”

Trish is deaf/blind and lives in South Carolina with her husband, Kevin Hubschman, author of “One More Reason To Cry” and “Outside The Circle.”

They have a dog, Henry. Both Trish and Kevin went to college in New York and have bachelor’s degrees in English.

To check out Trish’s gooks, visit:

https://www.dldbooks.com/Hubschman/

For info on Kevin’s books, visit:

https://www.dldbooks.com/kevinhubschman/

About Patty L. Fletcher

Updated November 2024

Patty L. Fletcher is a woman of passion and exploration.

She studies the art of manifestation and is a seeker of knowledge and the wisdom to know what to do with it when it’s learned.

To learn more visit: https://pattysworlds.com/