Years ago, I attended weekly wrestling matches at the Akron Armory.

Those matches pale in comparison to the action in my tub when I am giving Sweetie a bath.

I always bathe Tex first – he hangs his head and obediently steps into the tub. He stands solemnly, with his tail between his legs, while I soap and rinse him.  He even refrains from shaking his long, thick hair dry, when I tell him, “NO!”

Sweetie – well, after I trick her into coming into the bathroom, I shut the door. I lift her front half, trying to herd her into the tub. She squirms and wiggles, trying to break free.  She stiffens her back half, so I have to wrestle that part of her in, too.

Once in the tub, she scootches forward, away from the running water. I swear she moves forward toe by toe.  Sweetie never growls at me. But if looks could kill….I would not be writing this today.

Once she is done, she  shakes dry – all over me.  She doesn’t have much hair to shake dry, poor thing, but she manages to get me twice as wet as Tex does – no matter how quickly I wrap her in a towel.  Sweetie is the undefeated tub-wresting champ.

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