This is what we do after a traumatic experience.
No, it wasn't the lack of sunshine and warm weather, or my visit to the vet (my eyes are getting better!) or that hot dogs were made for lunch and we did not get any.
It was much worse than that.
It was, my dear readers, Bath Day.
An event so traumatic, that the girls and I spend the rest of our day making nests out of blankets and pillows and getting all the furniture damp as we nap away the horror.
Mom had the audacity to complain that the house smelled weird, like wet dog.
Hmm. I wonder why? Could it be the three wet dogs, recently bathed?
Side note, my fur looks exceptionally glossy. That, I am sure, has nothing to do with the bath or the fur brushing I was forced to endure. My glossy fur is thanks to my good Beagle genes!