My day was hijacked! Hijacked by Whitby who went outside with Tal as he worked on our new bottle tree and ended up, unsupervised, deep in the mud, a total, grimy, disheveled wreck of a dog. He was having such a good time and how his tail did wag! My plan had been to clean house, a plan hijacked by the need to give a dog a bath. We make plans in order to have something to adjust, I suppose.
I couldn't be mad and we ended up having a damp and wonderful time, the hot water in the utility sink running brown for quite a long time, three soapings and rinsings worth. There's something about Whitby when he's drenched, looking thin, his eyebrows and beard slicked down, his eyes big, something so very dear.
The combing and blow drying included a fair amount of snarling and snapping (Whitby, not me!) and more than a few applications of the scissors to particularly tenacious knots. But in the end Whitby was clean and fluffy - and exhausted. After changing into a dry set of clothes, I got to the house, not making good on all my thorough good intentions, but giving it a step above a lick and a promise.
It'll do for this week.