Multi-tasking Annoys Dog
Mom hasn’t blogged for a bit, and she’s sorry. Not sorry enough to wander over to the computer, but “sorry.” I’m not because that means I get to hoist my furry carcass up on her chair and blog instead.
Wait until she has to pick dog hair off her seat, THEN she’ll be sorry.
Mom has been working full tilt on the FindAQuiltTeacher.com web site. She came up with this great idea to get teachers’ information to people who hire them all in one place, in one format. And, big surprise, people are interested. So she’s making web pages and things called Teacher Fact Sheets. Big deal. I am still needy.
Mom likes to multi-task. Personally, I just can’t wrap my head around it. Dogs are single taskers. Accept pets. Stop. Fetch ball. Stop. Chew ball. Stop. Return ball. Stop. Accept more pets. Stop. I don’t care to be fed while being petted; I might choke on something. If you throw TWO things for me to fetch at the same time I get confused. I know my limitations and I’m OK with them.
Mom accidentally dropped a lone kibble into my water dish the other day and I felt compelled to eat it. Trouble was I had to get to it first which involved much drinking. By time I snagged the stupid thing I was so full of water I sloshed when I walked. Eating and drinking at the same time: NOT a good idea.
Today I personally witnessed Mom triple-tasking and it was ugly. I had a bath. Actually, as I am very well-behaved, I have showers. I have shared before that during a “bath” I am imprisoned behind the impenetrable plastic curtain with no way of escape and that Mom is in there with me.
Let me stress that Mom removes all of her clothing for this irritating ritual and it is pretty pasty white in there. I try not to look. I don’t much care for the partially hairless varieties of my own species. Looking at that much furless anything is almost more than my stomach can handle. I also keep my head down hoping that by doing so I render myself invisible so that the stream of water will not be able to see me and douse it’s intended victim. So far that hasn’t worked.
Mom has also run out of dog shampoo. Bath & Bodyworks Shower Gel (Cucumber Melon or Green Clover and Aloe) previously only went on my head. Today it went eveyrwhere. And Jennie, dear human sister, remember that luffa thing you left in the shower last time you were home? I’d let it be. It has seen my nether-regions, if you catch my drift. You may want to buy a new one. But I digress.
In addition to my bath and Mom’s bath, we had a third activity this morning. Mom shaved her legs. Both of them. She mentioned that she was delighted she had enough time to “do both.” (Whatever that means.)
As my job when Mom bathes is to lean against her and patiently wait until the impenetrable plastic curtain is moved to reveal the rest of our bathroom, this new shower activity kept me from doing this. It also included yet another foul smelling gel which, due to our proximity in the porcelain prison, was unavoidable. And it didn’t merely suds, it FOAMED. Major ick.
I steadfastly maintained my leaning position, which I thought would make Mom happy, but it did not. It merely caused her to flip around and face the other way for the second leg, forcing remnants of the “used” leg foam to touch my fur. I put up with a lot for this woman.
Once we were sufficiently rinsed and released into the bathroom at large I was forced to endure yet another ordeal: blow drying. The leg thing set Mom back a few minutes so she set the dryer to HIGH. Still the massage felt nice and she probably did that to make me forget I was so odoriferously inconvenienced.
I have now licked myself all over in an attempt to return my rightful dog stink to all of my fur. Several more licking sessions and I shall be back to normal in about a month.
Until then, I remain, embarassinlgy yours,