puppy shampooDear Boy That I Haven’t Sniffed In A Long Time,

I must tell you about the goings on here. Things have Gotten Out of Hand.

It all started out innocently enough. Mom and I had a lovely conversation. She’s learning a lot—I keep trying to teach her real words but it’s slow going. At the end of the conversation she got up and I followed her into to the kitchen because that’s where Food is and that is always Happy Time for me and my tummy.

Imagine the horror when she took out the bottle that says “Puppy Shampoo” because that’s where baths happen and that is not Happy Time. It is Wet Time. And I am not a silly lab who likes to waste time playing in water.

So while she Organized, I cleverly trotted out to the porch and camouflaged myself next to the window. I know that I see right through that thing, so I figured she’d never spot me. What? No dirty puppies here. I sat very, very still.

She found me (for someone with a nose that doesn’t work very well, she can be darn clever) and into the sink I went. I was very cooperative, because I am That Kind of Canine and if you’re going to get clean you might as well do it right. I let her wash every last part of me. As you know, I hate severely dislike baths but I love the square orange cheese I get afterward (still trying to figure out how to train mom to give me some without a bath).

I got dried off, ate my cheese, and then I had to fix everything. No one puts my fur back where it belongs so I have to roll around on the carpet (I so wish I could lick my back) and then I licked all the fur I could reach (I don’t know why I can’t just give myself a bath without all this sink business).

A little later, Daddy brought home the big motor thing. We all had to help unload because Daddy was In A Hurry. I was busy helping, but Mom kept forgetting to give me treats. So I thought “what can I do to really be helpful?” and poof! Woof! came the answer: I could roll around in something to get a good smell back on me.

Nonchalantly I moseyed behind the burning bush to the side of the house. Mom said, “Booker” in a Don’t-Move-Another-Muscle-Mister voice, but what could I do? Everyone else was working so hard. I had to do my part, didn’t I? So I zipped off on little doggie feet. Mom yelled, “Booker, Come!” which I  know means “when you get over here you get a treat. Probably.” It was hard (I LOVE treats), but I had a job to do and so I kept going.

I found some really cool stuff to roll in (I won’t tell you because I don’t want you to get jealous) and after I’d had a good perfume, I went back to the Pack.

Mom’s eyes opened extra wide when she got a whiff of me. Pi said something about me (I know it was about me, but I’m not sure what she said because of the funny look on her face and the way her nose was scrunched up—too much of a good thing, maybe?)

You will NEVER guess what happened next. Into the sink I went. I have never even heard of having two baths in one day. I wasn’t even dry from the first bath. Can you believe this?

Nobody appreciates help.

I’m exhausted. Must go take a nap.

Love, Booker