When I first adopted Spiffy as a rescue, I would mostly bathe her myself, in the tub. After she got wise to it, I would generally have to coax her in there, pull her by the leash, or sometimes carry her in.

Often, it was a struggle to keep her in the tub. When I finally finished the job, she would leap out of the tub, and try as I might to towel dry my sweet doggy, she would slip through my hands, shaking off water as doggies do, all over the apartment.

Occasionally she would make her "great escape" before the rinsing was complete, and then she would gleefully shake both suds and water throughout bathroom, kitchen, living room and bedroom.

Sometimes, she would have a fit, demonstrating her pent-up emotions by racing through the apartment at breakneck speed, growling as she went. What a terror!

Then, when it was all over, she went back and just had to have a look at the spot where it all took place. She would go into the bathroom, and stare into the tub, incredulously. Scene of the crime!

Eventually, my back and knees could no longer handle this job, and I found a groomer, who came to the front door, in a truck. The picture above shows Spiffy in the groomers' truck.

Whenever Spiffy had a bath, whether in the apartment or at the groomer, she always seemed very happy, once she was clean. After she dried off, she held her head high, and knew that she was a very spiffy dog.

I thank God for the (approximately) 16 years I enjoyed having Spiffy as a sweet, cuddly companion, including a number of years my husband and I got to enjoy her as our furry friend, together. She gave us lots of laughter and love.

You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.