"There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them." Sylvia Plath - The Bell Jar
But things didn't really turn out that well for Sylvia, did it? Perhaps if she'd spent more time in the bath and less time in the kitchen...And look at Jean-Paul Marat:
His bath ended very badly.
Never allow visitors during bathtime.
What is the point of baths, I ask you? You just get dirty, and have to be bathed all over again. Rinse and Repeat. Pointless.
I see any pool of water bigger than my waterbowl as a potential torture. I don't swim -- except for the time that lout at Bow Wow Bungalow tossed me in the river...Okay, so the river was only three feet across and twelve inches deep -- I had to swim for my life!
Anyway, I survived my bath and the hair dryer (another horror!) and finally went for a decent trot outdoors.
Mon dieu! Yorkies everywhere! I swear we are breeding like rabbits. And they're so tiny, I'm almost ashamed to nip at them -- but they desperately need it. There is nothing more rude than a spoiled Yorkie -- and I ought to know.
In the evening, we watched a movie.It was called "The Queen", but actually it was the story of some very happy Corgis and Labs in Great Britain. They live with Helen Mirren; and she lives with her cranky mother and even crankier husband. Hey! Wasn't he the man with the pig? He seemed so nice when he lived with the pig.
Something Bad has happened and everyone wants Helen to Go to London, but she wants to stay in the country with the dogs. Can you really fault her? They go on lots of walkies in the mountains and attend picnics. Sometimes they are scolded for being where they ought not be; but overall, it's a nice enough life.
Three woofs for The Queen!
