A clean dog is an abomination.

At least that's how I'm interpreting it.

Last night I washed and dried Peanut into a glowing white ball of shampoo-scented sunshine.

This morning, Harley peed on him.

I washed him again.

I came home an hour ago to find that the neighbor's dog had gotten into our yard and played roughly with the dogs. Peanut is left with a 1 1/2 x 2 inch stripe on his head that is still white; he is otherwise covered in mud.

To attempt to have a clean dog is to defy nature.

I am officially giving up.

*sigh*

Distemper sucks

Peanut is in the process of losing another canine.

This will leave him with a total of two.

He's in pain and I don't have any doggie pain killers. I'd improvise, but he's so small that it might do more harm that good (I'm wary of tinkering with body ratios and pain killers). Right now he's under the Home Theater Room's couch cowering.

This breaks my heart.

And it's partially my fault. He's been enthusiastically stealing Harley's Trader Joe Greenies (their version) and I broke down and bought him a bag of his own. I know he's not supposed to chew anything, but I bought them anyway. He's still a young dog and he wants to chew. I shouldn't have been so indulgent. *Sigh* Now he's down one more tooth (he has so few left).