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Bath Time
October 18, 2011
He hacked as he struggled against the taunt leash
Like the hose was a chop-block
His fur, black with dirt, signified that he needed the bath
He didn’t see it like that
I yanked against his leash, leading to the hose
The leash was frozen
I wrapped the handle through the chain-link
His face was masked with confusion
Slowly but surely I drenched him in the “deadly” water
Green, frothy bubbles covered him like an extra layer of fur
One last rinse until the leash is taken off and he jotted away
He started to work on getting dirty again
© Xantia S., Perth, Australia
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