It amazes me how Petey can find the rankest, vilest, deadest thing within our proximity and have so much fun rolling in it. We can be on a hike or by a river, in the most pristine of locations around here (I think), and he will return from a romp with dark goo around his neck and the happiest smile.
"Mom," he says, "I just had the most fun!" and then attempts to sit on my lap.
"You've got to be kidding me!" I groan with the first whiff. "Oh, Petey!"
His "place" in the car while I'm driving is sitting on the console by my right arm, so that he can be high enough to see. But he also likes to have his left shoulder against my right shoulder, and if he's tired, he'll drape his head over my arm.
"Petey!" There are no words really to express my disgust with him. Just "Petey!"
This, of course, leads to bath time when we get home.
What we have here, folks, is a leash attached to a drawer knob in my bathroom. It is taut, as evidenced by the drawer being pulled out. What could be on the other end?
Things aren't looking too good for the "Pete-ster."
"Do I ha-a-a-a-ve to?"
Now Babe is concerned. She worries a lot, especially about Petey.
"Sister, get me out of this!"
"Can't help you on this one, Bud. I told you not to roll in that stuff."
I physically have to place him in the bathroom. The click of the door knob seals his doom.
"Mother," he asks as I gather towels. "Can we discuss this? Do I REALLY have to take a bath?"
"Yes you do, Petey," I explain. "There's no place in this house for a dog that smells like this."
"But Mom, I'll be good."
"You're still a good boy, just a stinky good boy."
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you, too, Petey. Now get in the tub.
To respect his privacy, no bathing photo will be posted. A lot, I mean, a lot of scrubbing takes place with Sally B. Dog Soap. A douse of white vinegar is included. He endures it to the end.
After a good shake, "Woo-hoo, Mom! I feel great. Let me out of here!"
He dashes out the door, calling, "Mom, can I go outside and play again?"
"Ya know, Petey, I think I'm going to let you dry off for a while so that I can enjoy this brief time of your smelling good. Jes sayin..."
As he curls up in front of the fireplace, he says, "Love you, Mom."
"Love you, too, Petey."
I love my little guy.