I’ve washed the walls, and mopped the soggy puddle off the floor
And cleaned the bathtub and the sink and six foot up the door…
We had a bath, the dog and I, before we went to sleep
Not both at once, that kind of lark would make an angel weep!

Although I have to say I might as well have just got in
I bathed her in my undies and was soaked from neck to shin.
I’ve got to catch her first, you see, she keeps me on my toes,
No matter what the stratagem, the bugger always knows…

Another day she’ll follow me and wait beside the tub
And watch with curiosity as I shampoo and scrub;
She knows my usual routine and follows me inside…
Yet soon as she’s the target then she’ll find somewhere to hide.

How does she know the water’s running nice and warm for her?
And that shampoo that’s waiting will be going in her fur?
It’s not as if I bath her very often if she’s good…
But only when she’s rolled about in horrid, smelly mud.

I caught her… it was difficult, ‘cause first I had to find her
Then carried her upstairs and shut the bathroom door behind her.
She looked at me with deep reproach, I knew she’d sulk and mope
Then wriggled like an octopus and tried to eat the soap.

That awful moment’s coming when I have to let her go
And try to reach the towel, but she doesn’t want to know.
I try and dive and cover her before she makes her break
But know full well regardless that the small dog’s going to shake.

By this time she is dripping, and she’s not the only one,
It’s going to take hours till the cleaning up is done.
For one small dog that shakes can go an awfully long way…
I must be mad to bathe her at this hour of the day.

When all is clean and tidy then it’s my turn for a treat,
And fragrant steam is rising from the deep and scented heat
As I relax in luxury the small dog wanders in
And watches my ablutions with a really wicked grin.

I lie back for a soak and then the rotten little mutt
Comes back and drops a very muddy ball down by my foot.
The water’s now disgusting, she has won, the Ball of Power
Has made the bathtub filthy and I have to have a shower.

I’ve had enough, and so I leave my hair to dry alone,
The curly mop goes frizzy… yes, I really should have known.
I’m way too old for ringlets.. and they stand out from my head…
I give up, turn the light off and crawl wearily to bed.

I look a fright, I tell you, but as if that weren’t enough
The small dog’s looking gorgeous like a little ball of fluff.
The brown eyes still reproachful as she settles for the night.
Her fur is feather soft, a downy halo of delight.

Concede defeat, she’s beaten me…the small dog wins again.
I look like some mad harpy with the curly, scarlet mane
A moral tail, you’re asking? Well, there is a point , at that…
If you’re going to bathe a small dog just be sure you have a hat.