Like most good dogs, I don't bathe often, but a rare warm day giving me the opportunity to cleanse myself of the last traces of winter, I submitted to the ministrations of my parents.
Although I protested mightily, I have to admit being clean felt kind of good, especially because I had become rather itchy after an all-advised roll on a tract of land that was mostly, shall we say, dirt.
I'm all for dirt, ordinarily. I'm renowned for my skills in earth-moving, shrub transplanting, and chipmunk hunting (yes, that was me on the lookout early Saturday, 2:41 a.m., I believe) skills. My prints, as well as my voice, are unmistakable.
Clean? Sort of. For one day, anyway.
|Picture perfect, no?|