PTSD*

*Post Traumatic Shower Disorder

Wednesday's photo showed the preliminary to Sam's bath...he knew what was happening, and ran around the house for five minutes carrying his collar, hoping someone would put it back on him, and thus avoid the indignity that was sure to follow.

Then he spotted it: the black bath restraint! It was time to high-tail it out of there, pronto.



Caught! Notice the tautness of the leash. He had his butt planted on the patio and was refusing to budge.



It was futile...he pleaded one last time to be set free, to be allowed to roam and stink in doggie splendor, as nature intended.



But to no avail. His fate (and dampness) were assured. It began...



Please Sir, won't you spare me any further humiliation?



Once back inside, he took the opportunity to spray the living room with water in revenge for his peoples unconscionable behaviour. He didn't understand why we only laughed.



"Perhaps if I rub the moisture in the carpet; maybe that will shut them up! Oh, if I only had thumbs, I'd make 'em pay!"



All right, all right, that's enough laughing...somebody help me get dressed.