A Boy, A Dog, A Bath

The Calm Before The Storm.

Boy & Dog.

Awaiting the hose.

Actually, Ryan was awaiting the hose.

 I, Shakespeare was the innocent bystander.

I did not even know what this "hose" was. 

Maybe, thought I, it is something to eat.

I licked my chops, anticipating. 

I opened wide my mouth, 

and to my amazement

a fountain rose forth.

Not forth from me;

nay,but the lad. 

Was this then the "hose"?

Oh what a delight!

I twisted, I leapt 

as I tried to give bite.

I soon was soaked through my long shaggy coat 

when the lad gave a whistle, a shout and a hoot.

I went to him quite curious,

all a-shiver and set to enjoy.

But what was this? 

This flowery scent?

Methinks this is a ploy.

A massage?

A back-scratching?

I most certainly smell trouble.

For I am now all a lather 

covered in suds, froth and bubble. 

This my friends,

is a face not-so-happy.

Please bring back Friend Hose

And do it quite snappy.

Ah, it is back,

this wondrous delight.

The spray of the water

The thrill of the flight.

(Betcha didn't know I could dance, did you?)

 To get off the suds is becoming a chore

I do not sit and endure; what a bore. 

So the lad brought in reinforcement…

I wonder, where's her cape? 

For a superhero it will take,

to escape without a scape.

My lady thinks she will escape without any harm,

but, nay, not so as mud covers her arm.

I jump, I frolic, I roll in the mud.

All in all, just a day on the farm.

But not, tis all over, 

I am toweled from head to rump.

The brushing has commenced 

and I am no longer a grump.

Here am I,

Sir Shakespeare the "Bard"er Collie,

clean as a whistle and without any bristle.

Still a bit damp, I need a good shake

but I shall lie in the sun and therefore shall bake. 

As for the lad?

Well, that's another tale 

for he and my lady did not fare so well. 

With Love,

Shakespeare

P.S. Bathtime with Shakespeare was, shall we just say, interesting. I thought he'd sit still, letting Ryan get it done. It ended up being a bit of a fiasco, with mud flying from his paws as he leapt about and slobber stringing from his mouth. He didn't tell you that part; he's a little shy about the drooling problem. He pretends to not like his bath, but in the end, he revels in his soft, sweetly scented fur. Don't let him tell you otherwise. ~Dianne