In Memory of Sasquatch

I wrote this post a few springs ago. Last night, Sassy, died and my parents are pretty sad. Mr. Man and I talked about this funny memory of Sas before we went to bed and I thought I would re-visit it in his honor.

My parents have a little terror of a dog named "Sasquatch" also known as "Sassy".
Dick and I hate him.
Little Miss loves him.
He snips at times if you look at him wrong. He is slow as molasses on a walk. He is the absolute most ridiculous dog I have ever met.
Unfortunately, it's my fault my folks have him in the first place. I picked him out as a puppy.
Ugh.
This is why it is my punishment, er, duty to care for this demon animal when my parents are out of town.
LM loves this dog. And loves to give him walks. Harumph.
So this weekend, while my parents were on a romantic 30th anniversary (WOW!) getaway, we agreed to drive over and take Sassy on a walk one evening and check on him the next morning.
We ran some errands on Saturday, then stopped at their house on the way home.
"Just a quick walk, LM, and we have to go home."
Instead, Little Miss spent the better part of an hour on the couch (held their by our firm commands, cookies and Snow White) while we laughed so hard tears were pooling our eyes, got as dirty as we ever will get and squealed in fright and disgust many times. Here's why:
I smelled poo when we walked in and we immediately saw it matted to the back of Sassy (in his fur) in a big, gooey, slimy mess. As we tried to bribe him into the bathroom with treats to wash him off, he sat on the beautiful hardwood hallway and druuuug himself and said mess in a big smear on the floor.
Giggles and squeals time #1.
I finally lure him all the way into the bathroom where he smears himself a few more places...on the white carpet. Did I mention this is a rental?
More squeals and shouts.
The stupid, stubborn beast won't go in the shower and I'm too terrified of him to pick him up. Did I mention he's a tiny little Lhaso Apso? And he's cranky and covered in...ugh.
More giggles and screams.
Mr. Man comes in to help after he gets the movie going for LM. Thankfully Fo is screaming in her car seat - hungry and cranky. So my husband, also not wanting to touch this poor excuse for a pet, grabs a chair and tries to scoot him into the shower. Instead, the little worm jolts back in fright and sits - on my foot!
I was barefoot.
Huge squeals!! And maybe not some nice names.
Shudder.
I finally prayed out loud (no joke) and started singing praise songs to the dog (silly, I know).I read once that this can calm bears and shoo them away. I took a few deep breaths and placed him in the tub.
I still did't want to touch him, so I climbed in and began rinsing him off with a cup. I was standing in such a way that my feet were getting quite the bath.
Now I was covered in...ugh.
Still singing. Still cursing my husband and my 18 year old self that should have known better than to pick this dog.
I finally got brave and dug in to give this brat of a dog a good cleaning.
By now he's shivering and cuddling up to me.
OK, so he's not terrible. Poor thing.
And I guess for my parents 29th anniversary they watched LM so we could attend a marriage conference. So I deserved this.
We cleaned up as best we could, took him on a walk, fed Fo and got outta there.
The next morning, we were afraid of what we would find when we arrived. Fortunately we found a clean dog that time.
My parents found this note when they arrived home:
"Happy Anniversary! Hope you had a wonderful time! Love you!
P.S. You'll want to call us before you use the bathtub."