mister's got a mystery rash they throw some antibiotics at and he has to be absolutely dry so i put him in his cheerriot en route, swim, and let him dance, roll, poop, pee, and air dry all the way home. then i brush the dead skin out and blow dry the poor boy. he makes that scrunched up face and chuffs. but listen, we gotta swim, nome sane. there's too many dark cold months ahead to deprive ourselves of that languid life light.
and it was good. a-dog.