Tormenting My Dog

Oh, how Howie hates the camera!

He only looked at me because I whispered, "Who is it?" -- which is an 'alert' cue. When he looked up at me, his expression changed from 'alert' to 'disgust.' Poor dog.

Nevertheless, I can't resist taking pictures of him because he is so beautiful to me. The softness of his fur, that gorgeous dingo tail, his sweet little whippet face ... and those scrumptious chocolate fudge ripple stripes!

A couple days ago I was soaking in the tub to ease the pain in my neck, shoulder, and arm when Howie came into the bathroom to see where I was. I cupped some of the hot water in my hands, and he tasted it. "Come on, Howie, in! In!"

He backed away nervously. I began to splash the water, an almost irresistible sound for Howie. He came closer, so I squirted water into the air with my hand. He began to bark and stomp at me.

Not wishing to seem like a responsible adult or anything, I got the washcloth, wrung it out, then tossed it into the air. Howie sprang forward, but stopped short of jumping in. I waved the washcloth through the water, and he grinned and watched avidly. His body was tensing, and I knew that I was pushing the limits of sanity -- I am in less than functional condition and having a 65-pound dog leap onto my lap in the tub would not be the smartest course of action.

I wrung out the washcloth again and made it peek over the edge of the tub. He grabbed it, and proceeded to "thrash and bash" it all over the bathroom, growling fiercely and shaking it violently so that its wet ends slapped him vigorously about the face.

When he tossed it the air to better grab it, it flew into Bernie's closet and splatted against the wall behind the hamper.

Between my laughter and slithering into the closet to get the wet cloth, probably all my good soaking was in vain. But painful though it was, it was the first time I'd laughed hard in days, and that's worth something.

Wait till I'm all better -- Howie and I are going to have some fun.