Yet Another Journal

Nostalgia, DVDs, old movies, television, OTR, fandom, good news and bad, picks, pans,
cute budgie stories, cute terrier stories, and anything else I can think of.

 Contact me at theyoungfamily (at) earthlink (dot) net

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» Monday, March 10, 2003
I ambushed the dog yesterday.

I was giving the master bath tub a good scrub and when I got done had scattered water around the tub area. It struck me that since the bathroom was already a mess I might as well wash Willow. We've done it in the kitchen sink since she was a puppy, but only in the last few months has she attained her full growth and that sturdy little terrier body is no longer fitting properly in those dinky little shallow 1970s sinks that live in our kitchen. (I'd dearly like what's called a "Belfast" or "Irish" sink in the Brit decorating magazines I read.) So instead of drenching the kitchen as well, I plumped her into the bathtub and washed her. She kept trying to scramble out with this look in her eyes saying "You didn't really mean to do this to me, did you?" Yes, indeed, little girl. I kept telling her if I didn't wash her Anne Marie Lucas of Animal Precinct was going to take her away because I was a bad dog mommy. :-)

Later when she was fluffy and dry again we took both her and Bandit to Petsmart. Bandit rides in his carry box with aplomb. Willow whines the entire way there. I'm afraid we'll never get her comfortable there. She's terrified of the other dogs and was so hyper she wouldn't go sniff at the cats up for adoption. On the other hand, Bandit communed with two conures and seemed to want me to buy him a goldfish.

To calm Willow down, we stopped at Brusters, which is an ice cream place you don't have to go inside to order. I don't know how they make their ice cream, but it is the creamiest I have ever tasted. Even Haagen Dazs doesn't live up to it (and it's certainly better than Gorin's, which is grainy and full of ice crystals). It was a pretty day, in the 60s with a brilliant blue sky and a nice breeze, and we sat on the tailgate of the truck eating ice cream. Willow quit hyperventilating, took bits of sugar cone as offered, and was eventually relaxed enough to look like she was going to check out the people in the car next to us. Bandit's more like me--in fresh air he starts to fall asleep!