“Cleanliness sucks.” – Riggins Newell

Obviously this is Riggins speaking.  I like cleanliness in fact I dare say taking a bath is one of my favorite things to do.  If there was a way to make the bathtub mobile, maybe add a few wheels and a motor, I’d happily go about my life peacefully soaking in warm water with a glass of red wine at my side.  Tub cruising.  Alas this brilliant invention does not yet exist.

Riggins, on the other hand, is a dog.  A boy dog at that.  His goal is to get and then stay as disgustingly filthy as possible.  His favorite dog park isn’t the nice sweet one with clean benches and ample green grass. Nooooooooo.  His favorite is the gross one that’s all dirt and dog pee where you sit at your own risk.  If he happens to find a stinky pile of anything that can’t be digested then he will just flop down on his back and roll around to make sure the stench gets in real deep into his fur.  Suggesting a bath is Riggins idea of hell on earth.

Since I live with the kid he gets a bath once a week.  This is when the dog people who read this blog inform me that washing a dog once a week is actually bad for his skin.  Yah yah I hear you, but did you hear me about the rolling around in grossness?  Riggins is an outside dog who wants to spend his indoor time cuddled up in my face.  Believe me.  You’d find a way to give him a bath weekly too.  To set your minds at ease I do use a special shampoo (designed for show dogs — nothing is too good … obviously) that is actually safe to use daily.  This is swapped out, every other week, with a special medicated shampoo from the vet (In case you were wondering I use Suave or anything cheaper than a giant bottle of Suave that just happens to be on sale for my hair.  We can’t all be kings of the castle.) which is also safe to use as frequently as weekly.

Bath time is always after a hike, which Riggins has long since figured out.  He refuses to go inside directly from a hike and will instead demand to go in the backyard as if I’d forget what I was planning on doing if he can stall long enough.  I take this time to prep.  The white bath mats get thrown into the hall, the towels move down to the floor and I go to the linen closet to grab a Riggins and Wendy towel and hang them up.  I install the dog wash hose onto the shower head and finally strip off my shoes, socks, and any other outer garments that can be shed.  Then I go get the victim.  Once inside Riggins knows it’s getting real when I take of his collar.  This is when he goes into survival mode.  He slips into the corner of my dinning room in an attempt to blend into the darkness.  Usually I just get behind him and tell him to move it and he will slowly …. very very slowly walk his way into the bathroom and into the shower.  Once he gets all four legs into the stall he is resigned and gives me little to no problems.  He takes his medicine until he is freed.  Post Riggins wash, I strip off the last of my clothes and make myself clean as he runs up and down the hall violently shaking in the hope of flicking off the pleasant scent he has acquired.

This weekend I tapped him on his journey to the shower and he acted out just for you (Please ignore any clutter or untidiness.  It doesn’t make sense to pick up until after the wet Tasmanian Devil settles down a bit.).  Enjoy: