My brother and sister in law gave Penelope a stuffed dog for Christmas.
It was love at first sight. All babies she loved prior to receiving this dog were yesterday's news. She named him Woof Woof and he hasn't left her side since December 25th.
Foofy, as we sometimes call him, is filthy. His neck fur is matted and crusted with remnants of many snacks. He smells like a mixture of feet and bad breath. He has been in the dirt at the playground, on the bathroom floor, in the sand at the beach, on the road, and in countless shopping carts. He is gross and desperately needs a bath.
The only problem is prying him out of Penelope's kung fu grip. She has him clutched tightly around the neck every waking hour and all throughout the night. She won't let him out of her grip, let alone her sight long enough for me to wash and dry him.
Today, I had to do something about the smelly dog. Foof had unidentifiable stains and crunchy spots on him. The situation had gone too far. He needed a bath! We were going out to dinner so I knew I had a couple of hours to leave him home to dry. I convinced Penelope that he needed a bath. She was okay with it until I shut the washing machine door.
The next 34 minutes were filled with whimpering, crying, and constant vigil at the washing machine. Penelope was not okay with her beloved Woof Woof going round and round all by himself. Her only consolation was that there were bubbles in his bath. She thought that was pretty cool.
I did my best to keep her mind off of her absent buddy during the wash cycle, but she asked for him constantly. I set him out to dry while we left for dinner, hoping he'd be fluffy and dry when we returned. His belly was a little damp when we got home so I put him in the dryer for a 20 minute air fluff. The verdict?
Good as new! Foofy is soft, fluffy, and smells like a spring flower. Penelope was so happy to see him again. Best buds, these two!