Gathering up large towels and dog shampoo, I call the dog. He knows. Of the cold soapy lather, of commands to stand still and occasional spits of soapy water in his eyes. Not fun for him, big chore for me. I think aloud; my dog picks up my subtle hints. Of course, he does not run after sticks I toss. I should train him to fetch, to come when called.
My fascination runs with the idea as my dog’s ear pricks up – as if to listen. It sure would be nice to wash a teacup size dog. Imagine a bathroom sink, instead of a kiddy pool, serving as the master dog tub. Imagine the easy wash in climate control room with minimal back strain that cleans up in a snap. Is it too much to ask? Can I do a trade-in, a down scale to a much smaller dog, please? Almost done, the hundred-pound fur monster waits and…no wait…noooOH!
water drops fly
hit innocent bystanders
dog begs forgiveness
::: ::: :::
Written in part for the word prompt, Fascination, over at the weekly Ligo Haibun Challenge. Every week, writers are given either word or photo prompts for a haibun writing challenge. Hope you check it out.