They call it self-service for a reason

I just gave my dog a bath at one of those self-service dog washes.

She really needed it.  She smelled like shit.

In so many ways, she’s such a civilized, evolved, spiritual creature.  She’s very good at breathing, meditation, peace, unconditional love, and living in the moment.

But why — why — does she insist on rolling in other dog’s crap?

She loves getting shit on her back, which makes it look, to me, intentional.  First she has to sniff around and find it.  Then she has to lie down in it.  Why?  What’s the huge fascination with other dog’s shit?

I liked this place.  My dog is afraid of a lot of things, including cats and baths.  It’s a lot easier there than in the bathtub at home.  It’s quicker.  Less messy.

When I was leaving the self-service dog wash, I tidied my space, paid the $11, and thanked the lady.  She handed me a piece of paper and asked me to read it before I came back.

“Was I a bad customer?” I asked.  “Did I make a mistake?”

No answer.

Upon returning to my car, I read the instructions and really can’t see that I did anything wrong.

I confess that, when I first got there, I asked a few questions.  It was my first time.  I just wanted to know sort of how it all worked.  I needed to know where things were — including the tubs.

I think when they say self-service, they really mean it.  It’s like a laundromat.  You’re suppose to go in, do your wash, and not bother anybody.

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