Our dog's thick, husky-style fur takes truly forever to dry, so she can only be bathed on sunny days. At least, that's what Ben tells me. (Kidding, I've seen this sad business with my own eyes.)
Here's our diggety-dog, clean and fresh, after her first bath of the season. The poor thing hates getting the ol' wash, and actually sits in the hall physically trembling (o, the pathos) or comes running to find me, the nice lady who has never put her in a tub. The terrified creature puts her [filthy] head in my lap, gazes up with a single baleful blue eye, and seems to beg me to hide her someplace where Ben and his bath will never think to look.
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