Girl,rottweiler, disappearance

So the other day I got home from work and called Moses name. There was no skittering of puppy feet there was onlu silence. This worried me because Moses is notorious for getting out of the back yard.  So i searched the house for him. I was about to give up and go outside and wander the a atreets for my dog when I heard what I like to call "moses dreams" from our guest bathroom. I walked in and this is what I found. 

Girl, Rottweiler, Embarrassment

Why I wear t-shirt?

So, I haven't posted anything about Moses for awhile. Partially due to laziness and partially due to the huge embarrassment he has been for the last ten days. I mean really really not pretty.
So Moses got neutered twelve days ago and wore an obnoxious plastic 20 inch cone. A cone so fearsome that moving past Moses caused you to collide into cabinets, get bruises as he pushed you down the stairs, and make sure that you had to either jump out of the way, or brace yourself. Ideally it was best to wear long pants in the presence  of the cone of peril, this thing was way beyond the cone of shame. He only wore the cone for six days but those six days came with an interesting plot twist.
A smell.
A terrifying smell.
A dark powerful essence wafting through the air.
Sweet sticky sickening.
And my mother being the good parent discovered a stiff unknown substance on his neck. Initially she thought it was pitch, a chemical, being dipped in the bog of eternal stench. So she set out to remove the wonderful goo from poor Moses' already en-coned neck.
My mother started out with just plain water, cold and hot. Neither worked
Dish soap? Nope.
Curry Comb? Nope, Moses snarled at her as she pulled some fur out.
Hoping it would go away she left it for twenty four hours.
The next day the quantity of the dried honey like substance had multiplied  My mother pulled up her britches, put her serious face on, and went into the garage searching for the miracle worker goo-gone. (Thank god she didn't choose turpentine)
The substance of unknown origin was goo gone resistant  As a child she recalled she could remove pitch from her hands and feet using butter or peanut butter. The small experimental section didn't seem to go away.
She rinsed washed and repeated.

Easier than drinking with cone. 

Being an emergency room nurse in a former life, she began to think there was probably was a explanation for it so she ran it by a pediatrician friend, who happens to own a chocolate lab.
"Hot spot!" Said the pediatrician.
Which activated my mother's maternal instinct and she called the vet clinic demanding to be seen that day or she was going to change her patronage. (She obviously felt guilty)
On initial examination, the vet couldn't see anything through Moses previously healthy coat. However when they shaved a 6 in by 12 in swatch they found a significant Hot Spot.
Now hot-spots are caused by moisture accumulating in the folds of skin, Moses being an adolescent Rottweiler who is never kenneled and seldom left alone, reacts to being in a kennel by drooling profusely. One neutering  eight hours in the vet kennel, drooling, plastic cone, all of this equals a petri dish that is a force to be reckoned with.
So now Cone head Moses also has to wear a t-shirt, as well as is required to stay dry, not lick or scratch, take antibiotics orally, have the antibiotic ointment applied twice a day, steer clear of other dogs, while ideally not wearing the cone of shame and being supervised. That supervision is to prevent scratching his chest area, licking his iv site or his newly neutered scrotum.
Needless to say, Moses was not very happy with us. For the next week he would not come when my mother called. Actually he quiet often went the other way, or hid in a closet, anticipating that she was going to come to hurt him one more time. Or maybe it was a diabolical scheme to scratch without intervention. But either way he hid.
Now Moses' trust issues are mostly fixed and he can make appearance at the coffee shop again (without looking like he has leprosy).
We are pleased to report, hot-spot is 98% gone, scrotum has healed nicely, and he has some hair growth on the bare chest of his. We think he'll be no worse for the wear.
My mother on the other hand is traumatized.

My mom bought me a ball to say sorry. Not forgiven yet. 

Girl, Rottweiler, Bath

Bath's are peaceful. But today I learned something, and I would like to share it with you as a math equation.
Moses + Bathroom + Me in bath = bruises and wet dog.

Looks Yummy! I try?

The bathroom in the house I live in is orange, not a burnt orange, no that color that is somewhere between neon and tangerine. It was obviously decorated with multipatterned dragonflies in lime and hot pink. The ugly white tile screams up at one while that person glances with loathing down at the dirt. There is two sinks and across from them is the bathtub. The bathtub is absurdly large for a basement bathroom, more of something seen in larger houses. It has jets and could easily fit a man of six feet.
Our story begins.
Getting home from the coffee shop means three things to my wonderful female self: One is a bath. Two is sleep, Three is food. Now as obviously I do not eat in my sleep in means most often I forgo number three. Parking my Volkswagen Beetle is a snap and getting Moses out of the car always seems to slow me down on the way to the delicious hot water that will ease my feet and make me feel human again. I drag Moses to the gate as he begs to go see the next door neighbors dogs, open the gate, let him off leash, and watch as he mopes for a mere forty five seconds.
Entering the house through the backdoor it's a straight shot down the stairs from the door, turning right twice I enter the bathroom.
Stripping takes no time at all, I have perfected what I like to call "Turn on water with foot while taking off shirt maneuver" Bath's are that wonderful.
Moses enters the bathroom with me and lays down on that ever increasing pile of laundry (less big now I have a roommate).
I have never tested my bathwater like I test my shower water, so I launch myself into the bathtub and hop out with a burnt foot. Obviously the water needs to cool some.
Moses laughs.
I growl at him.

I see you water! Water splashed! 

We turn back into our respective species and I wait for the water to get to the correct temperature. When it does I grin and step back into the most wonderful creation in all the world (besides Word programs).
As I sit down, the black master of stealth, manages to peak his head over the bathtub and stare at me.
What are you doing? Is it fun?
"Moses, dont you dare!" I need to stop thinking that dogs and humans can understand one another.
Moses gives me a patronizing look and he bounces. I cringe and close my eyes imagining my stomach being hit by 80 lbs of Rottweiler. The hit does not come. Whip whip whip SLLUUURRRPPP. I look up to see Moses with his paws dangling over the edge of the tub his face in the water. Normally he licks it from the faucet but today he felt like experimenting.
I glare, wasting the precious eye movement on a puppy yet again. I sigh and move my feet. I watch Moses suddenly hyper focus.
"What's wrong?" I move again
Moses' head follows my movment.
Experimentally, I whoosh my foot across the top of the water.
Moses swings his head back and forth noticing (I assume) what he believes is a drowning foot.
Everything happens instantly.

My phone on the sink vibrates, I pull my foot back, and Moses launches himself into the bathtub.
I cough and stare at the puppy, trying to pull my foot out of the water.
His nose is completly submerged and he is trying to get his head down far enough to eat my foot.
"What are you doing?"
Moses continues to face plant for my foot.
I sigh, bath's are not as peaceful as I remember.