Lola's First Bath

Sadly, folks, I have no photos of Lola's First Bath.  That's because Lola's Daddy took the digital camera out of town with him.  Now, I am a Generous Person with a Heart of Gold (although not the Firefly kind) and I am always happy to lend people things.  But if I'd realized that being camera-less this weekend meant missing the chance to take photos of my dog looking like a drowned rat in my bathtub for the first time, I think I would have told Lola's Daddy that bathtime comes first and his high school reunion was just going to have to wait.

I have had Lola for eleven days now and we have done many, many things.  We've gone to Crown & Anchor and Petsmart and Billy's on Burnet and Auditorium Shores and the 406 and Blue Dahlia and Freddie's.  And Lola has been a very well-adjusted little dog -- especially for a rescue dog who has just met me! -- and she happily goes for walks through the park and hangs out with me at restaurants and is mostly friendly to my friends and we've just had a grand old time.

But you know what all these wonderful doggie activities have in common?  They're all OUTSIDE.  And you know what happens when dogs spend a lot of time running about outside, frisking and gamboling and the like?  They start to STINK.

After our morning activities today, Lola was a particularly smelly, muddy little girl.  Right, I thought, time to bite the bullet.  We stopped off at Petsmart and bought:

1. Doggie shampoo (holy shit does this stuff have petals from the tree of life in it or something?  Because I don't spend that much on shampoo for me!)

2. A doggie towel (super-absorbent microfiber!!!)

3. A squeaky stuffed lamb (because I cannot walk out of that store without a new toy for the One-Eyed Wonder.)

4. Pink poo-bags (because apparently, for the first time in my life, I want to be pathetically girly.)

We got home and a few minutes later the bathtub contained:

1. Me, naked, supposedly projecting "calm-assertive dominance" as recommended by Cesar Millan

2. Lola, with her leash wrapped around the faucet

3. A few inches of warm water 

Internet, she was perfect.  She stood quietly while I got her all wet.  She stood quietly as I shampooed her.  She stood quietly as I lifted up her feet out of the water, one at a time, to shampoo them too.  She stood quietly as I rinsed her off.  She was only marginally wriggly as I dried her off.  She then went batshit crazy running around the apartment, but that part was kinda funny.

Either I have the best dog in the universe, or Cesar Millan really knows his shit.