It was August. Gibbs, our rescued boy Scottish Terrier had been with us a scant 5 months, but he seemed to be fitting in well. We were happy with him. He seemed happy with us.

Gibbs is quirky. Funny quirky. Among his more amusing idiosyncrasies was how much he loves his water bowl. It’s a big bowl, probably 5 or 6 quarts. He drinks and when he’s finished quaffing, he puts his front paws in the bowl and paddles.

Garry and I though he might have an unfulfilled desire to spend time in water. Most terriers aren’t big on water, but our first Scottie, Mac-a-Dog liked to wallow in shallow water. He couldn’t swim. Too short-legged and long-bodied, but wherever the water was shallow, he liked to cool down on a warm summer’s day.

So I thought we could get Gibbs (Bonnie is not interested in water except as a drink between snakes) a little doggy wading pool. But they turned out to be too expensive and too big. Overkill. Finally, I thought … how about a tub? When my brother and I were toddlers, my mother used to give us tubs of cool water to play in. I have pictures (somewhere) of Matthew and me in our tubs. Chilling in the summer heat. I found a nice tub at a modest price. It looks exactly like the tubs in the pictures from my childhood.

Garry put about three inches of water in it and set it out on the front stoop for Gibbs to discover.

After a couple of weeks, it was obvious he was not going to discover it on his own. Garry decided to introduce Gibbs to the tub. Although he didn’t freak out, he also was obviously expecting, as someone so well stated it, “a follow-up soap event.” He stood there with that patient, put-upon look dogs get when their people are making them do stuff.

Gibbs has never wanted anything to do with the tub, but he still likes to paddle in the water bowl. Another great idea gone awry.


  1. Those dogs are so lucky.
    If you remember from the Mother’s Waltz, Marilyn, I have a picture of myself as baby, in a tub very much like that. I still shudder to think I have a picture out there of me naked.


  2. Have you considered at some point, those shallow hard plastic kitty litter trays? Low enough to be accessible for paddling, and large enough side to side to allow for some wallowing.

    In that last picture he does have that “well, where’s the soap?” resigned look about the ears…


    • We gave up on improving on what he apparently feels is already JUST FINE as it is, thank you very much. And he does have that look as if he’s thinking, “Okay. Next, The SOAP. I’m clean. I’m a GOOD dog. See? I’m just standing here being good.”


  3. Pingback: Thursday’s Special: Tell a Story | Lost in Translation

  4. Our housemates always do what they want despite our “good” ideas. I fitted a nice cat ladder to make it easier for them to reach the top of the cupboard. Tabby still makes a risky jump to the top. She uses it when she descends, but 6 steps above ground level, she jumps – go figure. By the way that bath reminds me of the one we had a home when I was a kid, as we did not have a bathroom. Friday evening mum would fill it and that was my bath night.

    Liked by 2 people

    • I have noticed. Our attempts to improve their world — unless its food and they approve — are regarded with scorn. Apparently we stupid humans just never get it right. But they put up with us, as long as we keep the tuna and the biscuits coming.

      I’m pretty sure those tubs really were our bathtubs too. That was in the late 1940s. Almost no one except the well-to-do had niceties like hot running water. You heated water and poured it into the tub. Tepid was about as good as it got. Until we moved to the big house in Queens, we didn’t have hot water. It was called “a cold water flat.”

      Liked by 1 person

Talk to me!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.