first and foremost, today is my mamma's birthday. Happy birthday, Mom! You look fantastic for 117 years old.
So, Lucy got two baths on Wednesday. Then, she got two baths on Thursday. We figured we had to be out of the woods, right?
Nope. Yesterday, I spied Lu with something in her mouth. Something that I could smell all the way from the back door. It was no longer in the waybackyard. The Dead Thing had breached the security of the railroad ties that separate our usable yard from the jungle yard. And Lucy was going to town on it. So gross! I brought her into the house. I brought Brownie in, too. Because, while Brownie has heretofore not expressed interest in Dead Thing, she's already plenty nasty. I don't need any additional nastiness.
I corral Lucy into the hallway. She fights me hard. She is not the least bit interested in cleanliness. She wants disgustingness and lobbies hard to remain filthy. She goes limp, and I quite literally slide her into the bathroom. She gets another bath. She makes a lot of noise about. I am indifferent to her pathetic sighs, her slight moans and the shivering, since the water is perfectly warm.
When I've finished, I am angry. I am angry that I have been too squeamish to remove the offending Dead Thing. What the fuck. I grab the heavy-duty cleaning gloves, and march outside. I grab Dead Thing. It's a leg bone. A hinged leg bone. I stomp down past the waybackyard, behind the shed, and toss it towards the creek. Fuming, I stomp back up, open the door, yell at Lucy "THERE! NOW, YOU HAVE TO FIND ANOTHER WAY TO GET STINKY!" And then, I threw up 5,000 times. But, we have not had to bathe Lucy again. Yet.
She got a new collar (she got the Stench of Dead Thing on her old collar), and tooth cleaning treats out of the deal. All in all, bitch made out like a bandit!