So, Jack doesn't need a lot baths. In general, Rough Collies aren't oily and they don't smell doggy. Like their Shelties peers, they posses Teflon fur. Regardless of the mud, sludge, or dirt they magically transform over a couple of hours back to shining white ruffs and legs and glossy filth-free coats.

But eventually, it has to happen.

We had been doing Jack outside at home, if needed, between groomer visits and he was none too enamored of that practice so today we took him to the same dog wash we used for Scout. We hilariously thought he's be more accepting in such a refined environment.

The two half-grown Pit mix puppies did not know this establishment was refined and immediately lunged at Jack as we walked in the door. To get the entire picture here you have to know that Jack was walking on a loose webbing leash while the puppies were being restrained by what looked like actual chain - the kind dumb people use to tow cars.

Jack was not impressed by their enthusiasm to kill him.

We entered the bathing area and were the only ones there, thankfully. No one else witnessed Jack's sudden fake paralysis when asked to step into the bath. This did not actually work as Mr. Snaps dragged him into the tub upon which he regained all motor control and attempted to fly.

Not having wings or even stretchy glider skin, this was doomed to failure.

Firmly clipped to the tub, he proceeded to lunge ineffectively toward Mr. Snaps as I soaked his furry body with the gentle lukewarm water. The soaking part takes a while with these dogs so Jack was able to run his entire repertoire of disgusted diva moves: dramatic sighing, pointless bucking, whining and fake shivering, mooning at Mr. Snaps while attempting a Les MisÚrables-level of pathos including the weak lifted paw as he sadly bids adieu to his only friend and protector before tragically dying of an organic shampoo featuring coconut oil.

Once the actual soaping commenced, he snapped back into Navy Seal mode attempting to use various MMA move in a bid to either escape or cripple me or both. Then much more rinsing.

Then the cool air force dryer. Well, that was a bridge too far and Jack attempted to contact NASA to arrange a space-launched rescue by communicating in high-pitched whines involving Morse code.

By this time, we had company in the tubs and I could endure no more humiliation. I squeegeed him with my hands and used more towels. Upon exiting the tub he reverted to his normal public persona which is gracious and relaxed. I however, was a nervous wreck.

No wonder groomers charge so much.

He's currently reading the Quarterly Journal of Austrian Economics and toying with his bond portfolio.