"Rrrrow."
"Rude."
I can't help the snort that escapes me at this exchange, and Bear glances at me over his shoulder.
"Oh, hey. You came."
"Hi, you. Yeah, sorry it took so long. Been a busy week." I edge closer. “Can I help?"
"You're gonna get wet."
I shrug out of my sling purse, hang it from a hook, and find a blue shelter apron on another and tie it around my waist. "A little water never hurt anyone."
"Tell that to Roger."
I move up beside Bear, snickering at the pissed-off expression on the big husky's face. "Hi there, Roger," I say, taking the dog's wet, soapy scruff from Bear so he can use both hands to finish lathering.
"Row-row."
"That sounded like hello, to me," I say.
Bear nods. "Yep. He's a talker."
"Yeah, I heard the two of you having quite the disagreement."
"Roger was being a turd."
"Row-ROW-row-row-row."I wasn’t being a turd.
"Yes, you were."
"Row-row-row-row."No, I was not.
"Do you argue with dogs a lot, Bear?" I ask, giggling as Roger tries to shake off, only to huff in annoyance when Bear snags his scruff and prevents him from doing so.
"Nope. Just with this loveable dickhead."
"Row-row-row-row-row-row?"Who are you calling a dickhead?
"You, you dickhead." Bear glances at me. "Gotta rinse him. Hang on tight."
I clutch Roger's neck scruff with both hands, turning his face to mine. "Hold still for me, buddy, okay? The more you cooperate, the faster it'll be over."
"Row-rooooo."Saysyou.
I splutter and laugh as Bear hoses Roger with the sprayer; the dog goes apeshit, struggling against my hold as he tries to escape and shake off. "Hold still, butthead!"
"ROW! Row-roo-row!"NO! Let me go!
Bear moves behind me, momentarily framing me with his huge body, transferring the sprayer to his other hand so he can rinse Roger's other side and under-body.
My hold slips and Roger manages a few sharp shakes, spraying us with soapy water before I can grab hold again. "Sorry, sorry. His fur is slippery."
"Almost…done." Bear nudges Roger's chin up and gives his chest and belly one last spray. "Okay. On three, let him go and back up. Ready? One…two…three."
In unison, Bear and I back away from Roger, who gives us a scathing glare of death and doom before shaking vigorously. He leaps down and bolts around the room, then, with a wild case of the zoomies, pausing now and then to shake again—perhaps not so incidentally doing so right near us.
Bear grabs a thick white towel from a stack on a shelf and snags Roger as he zips past, hauling him around. "Time to dry off, Rog."
