I Figured It Out

Finally, while watching the dogs wander and stare mournfully at me in the tub, I figured out what their problem is.

They're not fascinated. They're worried.

It's so obvious to me now that the dogs are terrified that I'll slip under the water and drown and thus be unable to feed them and pet them and tug on their ears.

I realized this when FarmDog would go from staring mournfully at me to diligently investigating every corner of the bathroom, obviously looking for something edible in case of my demise.

Also, it says something about me (probably something very sad) that I got the most amusement I've gotten in a long while out of watching her when she got a little fluttery bit of toilet paper stuck to her inquisitive nose.

It stuck to her wet nose, she sneezed, it stayed stuck, she shook her head, it stayed stuck, she crossed her eyes at it (I am not kidding) it stayed stuck.

Finally she resorted to snapping at it. Yes. Picture it. It's stuck to her nose and she's snapping at it. Lunging forward trying to catch it unawares.

I almost did slip under the water and drown laughing, watching this. Fortunately Fuzzy Pup wandered in at this point and she wiped it on him like a true sibling does with anything that comes from one's nose.

Then she looked at me like I was a horrible person because I was still chortling and snorting and holding my sides and went to lay just outside the bathroom door, while Fuzzy Pup took up the vigil to make sure that I didn't do something stupid and kill myself in the tub and cut off their supply of treats.

Randomness

Why is it, when you're running a bath, you can stand in the bathroom for thirty minutes doing this and that in pre-bathing preparations and at the end of it, three inches of water are in the bottom of the tub, but step out of the bathroom for 2.5 seconds and suddenly the tub is three drops away from overflowing?

While I'm on the subject what is it about a bath rather than a shower that fascinates animals so? I can shower all day and the dogs care less. Run a bath, and since I'm not pitching their furry butts into it, they're absolutely fascinated and want to stand at the edge of the tub and stare like I'm pulling doggy treats from thin air.

Also... chapter eight is in the works people. As soon as I satisfy my inner diva with a long languid bath and humming sappy country songs to myself while I shave my legs, I'll get back to work on those pesky last few pages and get it up. Tonight, it will be up tonight. Tomorrow at the latest. Unless something horrific happens.

I'm putting up a sign that says "Writing, if there's not blood when you disturb me, there will be."

Which won't do me any good if I can't quit getting fascinated by weird crap on the web.