Fuzzy, Soapy, Black Dogs

I'm a horrible and mean dog owner. I don't starve my dogs. I don't beat them with the garden hose. I don't stick their noses in it when 'accidents' occur in the house. I do something even more nefarious and cruel. I bathe them!

The staging area for bath time is the walkway that goes from the front of my house to the road. Translation -- fuzzy, black dog baths are a spectator event for all to see in my neighborhood!

Just so you know, bathing one dog really isn't so bad, depending on the dog, of course. If you've got more than one dog, though, you have to keep going, obviously. Bathing two dogs could be best described as a debacle. Three dogs, and one of those dogs just happens to be a spaniel, could be best described simply as a chaotic frenzy!

Dog bath prep time is considerable. First I have to change into a swim suit and an old t-shirt. Then I have to kennel all three foul smelling quadrupeds. This merely prevents escapes. Then the leash and shampoo must be located and placed in the staging area. And, finally, I have to dredge out the dreaded garden hose.

Once the garden hose is out and the water flowing, it's game on! There's pulling, tugging, whining, cuts, scrapes, bruises, leash burns and fur and water flying. And the dogs even cause some of that!

My wife likes to watch. She's even been known to help out. She helps by reminding me that I'm outside and there are neighborhood kids when the muttering and cursing reaches an audible level.

And the dogs? They put up with it, mostly. They always survive bath time, albeit without the stink.

Ace, my best bath dog, dutifully deals with it and doesn't give me a hard time. Lilly, the orneriest of the bunch, gives me an icy stare like she'll sever my jugular vein in my sleep.

And Bob, the water spaniel who hates water and bath time, has learned a new trick.

He stops and gives me that cute, sweet spaniel look and edges closer to me. As soon as our noses are inches away, he utilizes his long floppy ears. He shakes quickly, slapping my face with his now wet, soapy weapons.

Luckily, it's summertime now. Dog washing is so much easier in the summertime. No walls to clean. No floors to mop. No plumbers to call to pull hair clogs. No evil hair-dryers.

Until I win the lottery and can pay someone to groom the fuzzy, black dogs, I'll just have to do it myself. In fact, I'm looking for my swimsuit right now.

"I've Never Seen This Before"

The statement "You know, I've never seen this before" is generally not something you want to hear coming from your doctor.

However, today marks the second time I've had a doctor tell me that, though I've heard it before from numerous other people in numerous other instances.

The first time was when I found out I was allergic to tree nuts, specifically almonds and pistachios -- my two favorites. For some very odd reason, only half of me swells up.

"That's impossible, Phillip," my doctor at the time told me.

When I came in half swollen from a wedding cake made with almond extract, she was stunned. She stared at me a moment, speechless.

"Oh my God, Phillip," she said finally in her best authoritative doctor's voice. "That's crazy! I've never seen that before!"

She even went so far as to get one of her fellow doctors within her office to take a look at me. He, also, showed the proper amount of surprise and amazement.

And now, today, my 'doctor' -- he's not, since he's only a physicians assistant -- also told me, "you know, I've never seen this before!"

He brought in a plethora of people from the office into our minuscule examining room to check me out. Each one had a different diagnosis. I suspect they were making bets as to whose diagnosis would turn out to be correct.

Which leaves me at home, in bed, wondering if I have chicken pox or not. I had chicken pox as a kid, which makes my case unusual. Add the fact that no one knows where I could have picked it up and it gets even more bizarre.

The pints of blood they juiced from my arm today should answer that question. Sadly, though, I won't find out until tomorrow!

Dear Santa, I Tried to be Good...

Dear Santa,

I've been good this year, relatively speaking. In fact, I've been a good husband, father, brother, son-in-law, uncle, brother-in-law, dog owner, teacher, friend, tutor, employee and inspirational role model.

I suppose my dog owner persona could probably use some improvement, but the incident in question, Santa... Well, it was justified.

Regardless, I'm really not asking for too much this year, I don't think, but I'll let you be the judge of that. With that being said, here it is:

I want a grill, Santa. I want a giant two stage, four grill top wide gas grill with all the bells and whistles, including the extra side burners, food prep station and locking wheels.

Also, Santa, I want a car. You know, that 'special' car. Do I really need to describe the "dream scream machine" again for the 40th time?

Just make sure it has that one feature where it is undetectable to police radar and scanners. There's no reason for that, really. I've just always thought it would be a neat feature...

I also want a clue. I never knew I needed one until after I got married and had a child. They sometimes tell me I need one, though I'm not sure why.

I appreciate the job, Santa. I really do. However, I was unaware of the fact that I had to specify that the six figures I requested the job have all come to the LEFT of the decimal point.

No more dogs, please, Santa! I've reached my quota of fuzzy, black dogs (or white, brown, golden or any other color dog for that matter).

Tell you what, Santa. Here's the rest of my list in one big lump. Many of these have been described before in pretty good detail, so I feel certain you know what I'm talking about by now.

A bass boat, a computer, books, a Karmen Ghia (it's a different car!), a dirt bike, five extra hours in a day, books, a beer making machine, a volunteer yard maintenance crew, books, a sailboat, an in deck hot tub and maybe some more books.

This is only the abbreviated version, Santa. Feel free to contact me if you want me to send the extended, full version of my wish list.