All three of us have finally gotten used to the distance between the faucet and the sink. We figure that the original 1924 fixture must have been where this more modern one is now installed.
Duncan scratched his nose when we left him at the vet's the other day to get his toenails trimmed. He rubbed it on the kennel, something he always does. Smart as he is, he still hasn't figured out that he cannot do anything about metal. I promise Mama's not squeezing him so hard that his little tongue is poking out. It's just there, cute as can be.
I promise Duncan's not drugged; he calmly accepts his Grandma's minstrations. His entire life, he's been such an easy dog to bathe.
How could you not fall flat-out in love with this little guy? Look at that sweet face.
I promise, my Mama bathes this little dog much like she used to bathe my brother and me. At times, we just knew our skin had been rubbed right off of us. I'm kidding, of course. She's gentle with Duncan, talking to him the whole time.
What a bunch of two-way love we've got going on here.
Duncan escapes in order to execute his own method of drying himself.
Shake to the left.
Shake it to the right.
Jump into your quilt on your chair.
Get tucked in.
Nap until you're dry.
Disclaimers: I promise, the kitchen sink gets a thorough cleaning after Duncan gets a bath. Our bathtub here in Portland has abnormally tall walls which makes it not a suitable place to bathe Duncan.
I cannot remember, as you can see, to put the camera on sport at opportune moments. Still and all, you get to visualize the gyrations much better this way.