Dogs

I have two dogs. The older one is a Jack Russell Terrier, Samson. He's a sweet dog once he knows you, but he bites strangers. My other dog is a Rhodesian Ridgeback, Margaret. She's a very good dog, amiable and lovely.

So today, Sam comes in from the yard, covered in dirty, mucky junk. I guess he must have been smelling too humanish. They like to be dirty, I don't understand it. This was too far gone for anything but a proper bath. So I hoisted him into the tub (yes, he's spoiled) and doused him with water. It takes a while to get him wet, as the water just rolls off his back, like a duck. He doesn't move much while you're bathing him, except to inch farther and farther to the other side of the tub. Thankfully, most of the gross, icky stuff washed off as I was getting him wet. Sam looks like a thin, starving rodent when soaked. His fur must account for half of his small appearance. He doesn't mind getting bathed, really. It gives him a chance to act like a crazy dog and rub the carpet to get dry. Now I'll have to watch him when he goes out, to make sure he doesn't try to re-odorize himself.

Maggie is more my dog now. She sleeps in my big chair, and puts her nose on my knee for affection when I'm reading in my room. Both of our dogs were orphans, Sam at the pound, Maggie as a stray. I love dogs, all animals actually. I wouldn't want to be without one.

Maggie and Sammy on Dogster.