The boyz were up and out early for a long walk up the hill to the village. Wilf followed me at all the way while Digby,with his bad hip, stopped and rested half way before rejoining us on our return . After a protracted period of frenzied play with a large yellow soft toy the two troubadors contentedly settled down for a gentle post-exercise,early morning doze under the trees. It was at this inopportune moment, just as I was coming through the garden gate after watering the olives, that the font of all knowledge passed by and pointed out rather sharply that Digby had been rolling in something quite unmentionable. Hadn't I noticed that he had changed colour from white to what interior designers might call taupe? ( The actual word used wasn't quite as refined ). It was also pointed out that from a down wind distance of ten feet his odour could be mistaken for that of a startled skunk. A bath was needed - immediately ! Why is it that Digby becomes my dog at moments like this?
Bath time with two water loathing dogs is not something to be embarked on lightly. It requires preparation worthy of the D-Day landings. First a large zinc tub has to be brought out of the store room. Then, half a dozen watering cans filled to the brim with warm water need to be lined up, beach towels laid out, and all the other paraphenalia dog owners need to make their little darlings smell sweet and look vaguely domesticated got ready. That's the easy part. Then you have to find the dogs . Both our boyz are champions at the art of making themselves scarce when it comes to personal grooming moments. If you can find and then entice one of them into the bath you can be sure the other will disappear to some even more dark and secret corner to ride out the storm. By the time you find the second , let alone get him in the tub, the first will have found some mud to roll in.
Thankfully, the process is now completed . The boyz have been toweled dry and are sparklingly white and sweet smelling. They have been rewarded with a chew for being simply difficult rather than impossible. I am exhausted, soaked from head to toe, frazzled and believe that I should be rewarded with a drink.