Mud season is here and that means it is time for Rover to have a bath. You can do it like you did last time – the time you fell flat on your back on the kitchen floor because you were chasing your soapy wet dog, who had just escaped the bathtub and decided to run through the house. As he whisked through the living room he managed to clear the coffee table of the bunch of tulips that were arranged in the crystal vase your mother sent for your birthday, spilling water onto your laptop that you left open on the floor and into your purse that was sitting next to it. By the time you wrestled him back into the bathtub you’d bitten your tongue, wrenched your back, and you thought you might be missing a tooth. Imagine this time, walking him into Dogma where the groomer will be waiting to meet you. She will take your dog and give him the clean-up he desperately needs without bodily injury to you or him. So he will come out scrubbed and brushed and you’ll still have all your teeth. Some decisions are just easy.
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