I don’t think she’s well. She’s cleaning stuff. Big time.
I mean, not her usual whip round with the feather duster and terrorising me with the hoover monster. Oh no, that I could cope with. Well, okay, apart from the hoover-monster. I have to protect my bed when she gets that out.
No… she’s washing stuff. And I mean, everything. I even caught her eyeing up my toys…
And it all smells weird.
She pulled up my favourite rug and now it smells of flowery stuff. Took the curtains down and now they smell the same. She’s washed the windows and started on the walls… muttering all the while about how I manage to get paw prints up them. Well if she will hang my leash up by the door, what does she expect?
There’s stuff flying out of cupboards, furniture getting moved. All the spiders are homeless since she took their webs down.
She’s even washed my sofa!
Doesn’t she understand what she is doing to my comfort zone? Or how important smells are to dogs? Just when I’d got it how I like it too…
Spring cleaning, she calls it…
…more like kennel fever, methinks.
Don’t get me wrong, she does do housework the rest of the time.. just not this much all in one go. And she’s been at it for ages… everywhere I try to hide, it is ‘”Out of there, girlie…” And every time I find something interesting to sniff, she shoves it in the washing machine.
And that worries me. I wonder what she’s going to wash next. Or who…
’Cause, when we had a cuddle, she said I smelled like a hamster. No, I tells her. I smell like a dog. A perfeckly natural smell. Better than smelling like a primrose anyway. So, I’ve been making myself scarce in case she gets any ideas about, you know, baths…
But she says I’m safe… for now. ‘Cause ‘pparently, it takes two two-legses to bath one four-legs that wriggles like it has eight legs. And no-one can come to help until the lockdown is over. See, I knew there would be something good come out of keeping her penned up!
She just growls and looks for more stuff to wash.
So maybe I’ll make myself scarce for a bit.
Much love, Ani xxx