Bath time or Armageddon?
For Louie and Maggie - it may as well be Armageddon. My husband begged me to give the dogs a bath on Sunday. (Apparently they were stinky - I never notice) You don't even have to say the word "bath" - all you have to do is go into the bathroom and say "Maaaaaagieeeee.....Looouuuuiieeee!" and they know. It took me a half an hour to get them in there. Then, Louie was my first victim. There was howling and yowling when I clipped his nails, the most pathetically depressed look when I was brushing him, and utter misery and the end of the world when I soaped him up. I tried to get him to give me a kiss, but he actually turned his head away from me. The hair dryer was death. He buries his head in my crotch with his butt sticking up when I'm trying to dry him. (He is trying to hide). But when I'm done, OMG he is the happiest dog on the planet. He jumps and plays and wags his tail when I say "All done handsome boy!" Then he gets a yummy carrot.
Giving Maggie a bath is like trying to innertube behind a hydroplane. I was sopping wet and exhausted afterwards.