Ever tried to wash a basset hound? Yes, well, if you have, you know where this is going.
If you’ve been here for a while, you’ll remember the last time we washed Chloë the basset. You’ll remember it wasn’t much of a fight. You’ll remember that the problem was keeping her clean.
Except that that wasn’t the last time she was bathed. It was the third last time. Winter grass, topsoil, chasing Marshall, the nature reserve walks, etc. mean that the white patches don’t stay. Usually, the theory is that the dirt collected while wet falls off afterwards. These days, it has been thrown down.
She just ends up brown everywhere. Her white goes brown, her rich silky brown goes light and sticky. When someone rubs her squishy underside, they need to wash actual visible dirt off of their hands. It’s shameful, especially when the first few outsiders intrude in the lighter lockdown only to be confronted by this mudball.
Wash 2 (let the previous events I wrote about equal Wash 1) was effectless. All it did was make Chloë fur go spiky from drying her. Oddly, it never seemed to go smooth.
Two weeks later, Basset and Bluetick were taken to the dog park. I have this story second hand, but it seems she tried to follow him when he jumped over a muddy trench. She apparently failed.
The story suggests that even her head was undermud. Witnesses contradict, and I’m not sure this was possible. If so, I am never letting her go to the dog park with only the Parents again. At least her nose had to have been out.
She got stuck in this trench. Some attempt was made to rescue her, but eventually she wriggled herself out. She was allegedly solid mud-colour afterwards. She then had to be lifted into the car. Actually, maybe I won’t come with next time.
She was showered (with light spray and dog shampoo) to save time. It is a entirely new mission to wash out the bath/dog tub/baby-swimming pool after a dog has been successfully inserted and removed. It seems that somehow this problem is not applicable to showers…???
By the time I was retrieved from the tortu… school*, all evidence of this event was gone. All that remained was a fluffy, dusty, slightly irritated, basset hound.
Dusty. This is defeat. There is no hope. I don’t know how we have managed the previous sixteen years straight of basset hounds, or how we will manage the next lot. I’m sure they didn’t always need a bath every two weeks. Oh well. I still love them
But Chloë isn’t sleeping in my room.
* I don’t mind school too much, as a nerd. It’s only some subjects, where we get lesson we were HONESTLY taught four years ago. But I’m not complaining, Mom. I’m just putting it out there that I am not a school-hater.