I gave the dog a bath this morning, a chore I've put off for a while. In part, I've put it off because Lucy has a nice natural scent, which I'm guessing is unusual in a dog and therefore should be celebrated. In fact, she smells shockingly like one of my favorite cereals, Trader Joe's Puffins. The other day Ryan poured himself a bowl of the cereal and sniffed inside the box.
"This is the same smell as Lucy," he said.
I smelled the cereal and was surprised to find that he was right. I said, "You must never mention this again."
I don't think it's right to eat a cereal that smells like your dog. Under the wrong circumstances, it could present a problem for the dog.
I also gave Max a shower this morning. He's recently graduated from bath to shower, although he doesn't quite have the mechanics of it down yet like he did a bath. I get him set up and then walk away twenty paces and immediately hear him call, "Moooooooom!" And then I return to adjust the temperature, help him with the shampoo, verify that the suds are out, or hand him a towel for stinging eyes. Then I walk away again, trying to remember what I was doing. As soon as I remember, I hear him call again. Mark my words, kids give you ADD.
The process of showering and getting ready every day fascinates me. We humans are so powerful and smart, bossing around the whole planet, but we're so incredibly faulty at the same time. Once we reach adolescence, we can't go 24 hours without starting to smell bad. And we can't take a six-hour road trip without having to pee at least once or twice. And don't even get me started on sleeping, the most wonderfully weird thing in the world. I'm not complaining, because I love me some sleep, but isn't it mind-boggling that we spend a significant chunk of every single day unconscious? And then there's eating! Food! A few (or several, in my case) significant meals per day!
My dog can go a month without a bath, six hours without a potty break, and 24 hours in between meals. And yet, I'm the one with a checking account. Go figure.