If there’s one thing my bulldog, Oliver, believes with all his heart, it’s that baths are an unnecessary cruelty invented by humans. He loves muddy puddles, rolling in the grass, and chasing after anything that smells questionable—but the moment you mention the word “bath,” he transforms into the most dramatic actor you’ve ever seen.
Last Saturday was bath day, and as usual, it turned into a full-blown comedy routine.
The Realization
It all started when I turned on the bathroom tap. Oliver, who had been lounging peacefully on the couch, lifted his head slowly, ears twitching. Then came the suspicious squint. He didn’t need to see the tub—he knew that sound.
When I said, “Come on, buddy, it’s bath time,” he gave me a look that could only be described as betrayal mixed with deep, existential dread.
The Pre-Bath Negotiations
Oliver has mastered the art of stalling. First, he slowly slid off the couch, stretched like he’d just run a marathon, and ambled toward the kitchen instead of the bathroom.
When I finally guided him in the right direction, he sat down halfway there, staring up at me with wide, pleading eyes, as if to say, “Surely, we can talk about this?”
The First Splash
Once in the tub, Oliver’s face shifted to pure resignation. His jowls drooped lower than usual, his eyes went half-lidded, and he sighed so heavily you’d think I was washing him with sandpaper instead of warm water and gentle dog shampoo.
The moment the first cup of water hit his back, his eyes went wide in shock, like he’d just learned a terrible secret.
The Side-Eye of Doom
As I lathered shampoo into his fur, Oliver kept glancing over his shoulder to give me a slow, suspicious side-eye. I swear, if looks could speak, his would’ve said, “I thought we were friends.”
Every few seconds, his expression changed—wide-eyed outrage, droopy-lipped misery, and once, a long-suffering squint that made me laugh so hard I nearly dropped the shampoo bottle.
The Suds Situation
When I worked the suds into his head and neck, his entire face flattened in protest. His wrinkled forehead deepened, his lower lip stuck out, and his ears drooped so low they almost covered his eyes.
It was as if I’d turned him into a living cartoon character.
The Shake Attempt
Oliver, of course, tried to shake mid-bath, sending a spray of soapy water across the bathroom. The instant regret on his face—at feeling half-clean and half-messy—was pure gold.
I told him, “Not yet, buddy,” but the dramatic sigh he let out said, “I’m suffering, and you’re enjoying this.”
The Grand Finale Rinse
By the time I rinsed him off, Oliver’s expressions had gone full tragic-hero. He stared at the ceiling as if awaiting divine rescue, his eyes darting toward the door every few seconds, calculating his odds of escape.
When I finally said, “All done!” he looked at me with narrowed eyes, like he wasn’t sure whether to believe me.
The Post-Bath Zoomies
The second his paws touched the bathroom floor, Oliver transformed from a pitiful, drenched creature into a wild, joyous maniac. He tore through the house at top speed, pausing only to rub himself against the carpet and furniture in an effort to “re-dirty” himself.
The whole time, his tongue lolled out in a happy grin—as if the misery of five minutes earlier had never happened.
Why It Was So Funny
What made the whole thing priceless wasn’t just the bath itself—it was the fact that every single emotion Oliver felt was written all over his face. From betrayal to disbelief, from resignation to post-bath euphoria, he put on a performance worthy of an award.
The Lesson in Oliver’s Drama
I realized something as I replayed his expressions in my head later: dogs live fully in the moment. Oliver’s bath was the worst thing in the world—until it wasn’t. And then, life was amazing again.
It’s a reminder that moods shift, bad moments pass, and sometimes, the best thing you can do is shake it off… literally.
Final Thought
Life is messy, sometimes it’s soapy, but it’s always better when you can make a few ridiculous faces along the way.