Dec 10, 2003 5 min read

It’s bath time. Our house canine, Ladybug, has been suffering with inhalant allergies. We struggled most of the summer, making sure she got her medicines, to stave off the itching and any possible infections. But part of her regimen was, for the first week, three baths; for the second week two baths; and one bath every week thereafter.

It was pretty easy to comply during the warmer months. I just tricked…er…enticed her outside with a couple of her special treats, got her close enough to the spigot and turned on the hose. Once wet, she stood it pretty well. I know she didn’t care much for it, although she enjoyed me rubbing the soap deep into her fur. And I had to be quick to avoid getting in the spray that came off her 70-pound body when she shook, first to rid herself of the shampoo and then to loosen the excess water after rinsing.

She looked forward to the towel drying and she got into the habit of getting more treats while she dried off.

But summer is over and winter is here. I can’t take her outside to bathe her because it’s too cold. Yet she still needs occasional baths. And we don’t have an area in the house, such as a mudroom or even a large shower to pull her into.

And while we have two and a half baths, we have only one bathtub (the other bath has a shower stall only).

Now most people would just haul the dog into the bathroom, put down a lot of towels, pour out some water and presto! Clean dog.

I’m not most people. I can’t do things the easy way. It just isn’t in me. If I did things the easy way the earth would likely fall out of its orbit and the stars would begin falling on our noggins.

I don’t rush into a project, either. Again, if I did, the sun would turn dark and cold and the moon would crumble into nothingness.

I like to plan things. If I have a special job to do, I like to get all my ducks in a row, theoretically, before I tackle the task.

So it was with having to bathe the dog indoors. First I knew once wet she would want to shake off the water. Well, the shower curtain in the tub stall would handle that. I could use a treat to get her into the tub. I didn’t think I’d have much trouble getting her out after the bath was over. But how to get her wet enough? Well, I’d just pour water over her body with some kind of small bucket or pan (naturally I would use one of our good kitchen containers. After all, what man wouldn’t?)

I could also cover the bathroom floor with towels, just in case things got a little too out of hand. And of course, the door would be tightly closed so I’d have a captive audience.

I gathered up all my accouterments: doggie shampoo, rubber gloves, pan, extra towels, etc., and headed for the bathroom. Then I called the dog.

That, of course, was the one minor part of the plan I had overlooked. I called but she wouldn’t come. Maybe it was the rubber gloves and goggles that gave it away. But I think she knew something was up and was having no part of it.

Well, I got her dog treats out and began leading her to the bathroom. Her taste buds overruled her common sense and she was in. I had to lift her to get her started into the tub, and hang onto her collar with one hand to make sure she didn’t hop back out while with the other hand I began wetting her down, lathering her up and bathing her. Once in the tub, I couldn’t get her to move. She stood there, rocklike, not even flinching as I soaked her.

That posed a problem because I couldn’t get at the side of her that was facing the tub wall. I stood over her, hung over her, practically fell into the tub to get soap on her whole body. Rinsing took a lot of effort, too, since I didn’t have the benefit of the garden hose’s continuous spray.

Yet, we were done. I was as wet as she was, my glasses steamy and covered with water; shirt soaked; feet wet, and so forth.

I calculate it will be at least March before I can commence outdoor baths again. Which leaves about three months or more for indoor bathing. I don’t think I can handle that. I have to come up with another way to get her clean.

I could always take her to the local car wash. I’d just forget the hot wax cycle. But I bet the white wall cleaner would make her nails shine like diamonds.

And after that experience, she might be more inclined to hop into the tub at home.

Have a good day.

Jim Pletcher is the Herald-Standard’s business editor. E-mail: jpletcher@heraldstandard.com.