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Annie and I had a discussion a couple of weeks ago where I voice a concern that we weren’t taking very good care of Tolkien. He had a place to get out of the rain, and plenty of food, but we didn’t take care of him like we took care of Soren. At that time, I gave him a (poor) bath, and let him in the house. He’s been wanting to come in the house ever since.

Now, I have to be honest here. Tolkien is a bit of a mutant. He has long hair for a Mastiff, and he is… well, intellectually challenged. That said, he is one of the most affectionate dogs I’ve ever known. He is a massive Teddy bear. Before Annie comes home tomorrow, I decided to give Tolkien a thorough bath. That means he was going to get soaped twice. Given the better cleaning power of warm water, I decided to give him a bath in the bathtub. I cleaned the living room floor, washed his blankets (surprisingly got the dog smell out of them), and got ready to do the deed.

I brought Tolkien in, and he went towards the blankets, I sternly redirected him to the bathroom, and closed the door. At this point, I think I should give some history to explain what I expected. I know it’s not to expect the same behavior from different pets, just like it’s not right with respect to children. However, Soren was an amazing bath-taker. You just told him it was time to take a bath, and he climbed in. You washed one side of him, and told him to turn around. He did. You told him to stay there while the conditioner did its job. He did. You rinsed him off, with the request that he turn around. He did. He got out, stood there while you dried him off, and then he went a little nuts running wild around the room in his cleanliness. Tolkien? Not so much. I told him to get in the tub, and he put one paw up. He decided it was too tall, and reclined on the floor. Granted, this tub is taller than my last one. After twenty minutes of trying to encourage him, and informing him that if he didn’t he would become a permanent outdoor dog (which he interpreted as mumble… mumble… mumble), I realized I was going to have to do it for him. I wrapped my arms around this 150+ pound dog (probably four feet from nose to butt), and tried to assist him into the tub. He promptly went to the floor again. I tried again, this time only trying to get his front in the tub. This worked. After getting his front in, he thought about backing out, but my knees prohibited that action, and the shower-door rail hitting his chest convinced him the easiest way of dealing with this was to simply jump in the tub.

I think I was sweating by this time.

I grabbed the shower wand and started soaking him. After making sure the close side was done, I stupidly told him to turn around. Old habits die hard. He looked up at me like I was an idiot, and started to sit. Fine. I did my best to soak each side, and applied the first soaping. He was very good after that. The drain was not as accepting as it started to get more than it wanted of dog hair. I soaped him once, and told him to stay. He did. He didn’t whine. After a few minutes, I came back and rinsed him. Then, I soaped him again. This time I managed to get him to turn around to make sure I got the far side. If you’ve never done it, bathing a dog the size of a small cow is a bit of a challenge if they aren’t into it. He waited with the second sudsing for another five minutes, and I rinsed him off. I had to pull the plug completely out of the tub to make sure it would drain.

I left him in the tub to shake in hopes he wouldn’t do it in the other part of the bathroom. This is a stupid thing that people do that has no chance of being successful. Yes, he shook in the tub, but when I opened the door and invited him out, he did it again. Toweling dry became a game where he rubbed against the wall, depositing copious amounts of hair on the textured finish. I gave up, and he ran happily to his blankets, as is seen in the picture.

Next time, we are going to the Do-It-Yourself downtown…